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French’s International Copyrighted (in England, her 
Colonies, and the United States) Edition of \ / < 
he Works of the Best Authors. 

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No. 114 * 

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MISS ELIZABETHS 
PRISONER 

H IRomanttc Gontefc£ in XTbree Bets 


BY 


ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 


AND 


E. LYALL SWETE 


Copyright, 1907, by Samuel French 


• • 


CAUTION :—Professionals and Amateurs are hereby notified 
that this play is fully copyrighted under the existing laws of 
the Unitdd States Government, and nobody is allowed to 
do this play without first having obtained written 
permission of Samuel French, 24 West 22d St., 

New York City, U. S. A. 


PRICE 25 CENTS 


New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

24 WEST 22d STREET 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton St. 
STRAND 


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FRENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA 


Price 15 Cent* each.—Bound Volumes $1.25. 


VOL. I. 

1 Ion 
fi Fudo 

9 The Lady oi Lyons 
4 Richelieu 

* The Wife 

• The Hon»yn.»n 

7 The School for Scandal 

8 Money 

VOL. II. 
t The Stronger 

10 Grandfather Whitehead 

11 Richard III 

19 Love’* Sacrifice 
18 The Gamester 
14 A Cure for the Heartache 
18 The Hunchback 
18 Don Csesar de Bazan 
VOL. ill. 

17 The Poor Gentleman 

18 Hamlet 

19 Charlei II 

50 Venice Preserved 

51 Piearro 

82 The Love Chaie 

83 Othello 

24 Lend me Five Shilling* 
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85 Vlrglnius 

86 King of the Commone 

87 London Assurance 

88 The R3nt Day 

89 Two Gentlemen ofVerona 

80 The Jealous Wife 

81 The Rivals 

82 Perfection 

VOL. V. [Debt. 
88 A New Way to Pay Old 

84 Look Before You Leap 

85 King John 

8* Nervoui Man 

87 Damon and Pythias 

88 Clandestine Marriage 

89 Williara Tell 

40 Day after the Wedding 

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41 Speed the Plough 

42 Romeo and Juliet 

43 Feudal Time. 

44 Charles the Twelfth 

45 The Bride 

48 The Follies of a Night 

47 Iron, Chest [Fair Lady 

48 Faint Heart Never Won 

VOL. VII. 

4t Road to Kuin 
(0 Macbeth 
41 Temper 

62 Evaane 

63 Bertram 

64 The Duenna 

65 Much Ado About Nothing 
58 The Critic 

VOL. VIII. 

67 The Apostate 

68 Twelfth N ight 

69 Brutna 

60 Simpson & Co 

61 Merchant of Venice 

88 Old Heads A Young Hearts 

63 Momtalneert triage 

64 Three Weeks after Mar- 

VOL. IX. 

65 Love 

66 As You Like It 

67 The Elder Brother 

68 Werner 

69 Glsippus 

7J) Town and Country 
71 King Lear 
79 Blue Devils 

VOL. X. 

73 Henry VIII 

74 Married and Single 

75 Henrv IV 

76 Paul 'Pry 

77 Guy Mannerlng 

78 Sweethearts aud Wives 

79 Serious Family 

80 She Stoops to Conquer 


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81 Julius Cesar 

82 Vicar of Wakefield 

83 Leap Year 

84 The Catspaw 
86 The Passing Cloud 

86 Drunkard 

87 Rob Roy 

88 George Barnwell 

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89 Ingomar 

90 Sketches in India 

91 Two Friends 
9' Jane Shore 

93 Corsican Brothers 

94 Mind your own Business 
96 Writing on the Wall 

96 Heir at law 

VOL. XIII. 

97 Soldier’s Daughter 
9 s Douglas 
99 Marco Spada 

100 Nature’s Nobleman 

101 Sardanapalus 

102 Civilization 

103 The Robbers 

104 Katharine and Petruchlo 

VOL. XIV. 

105 Game of Love 

106 Midsummer Night’s 

,107 Ernestine [Dream 

108 Rag Picker of Paris 

109 Flying Dutchman 

110 Hypocrite 

111 Therese 

112 La Tour de Nesle 

VOL. XV. 

113 Ireland At It It 

114 Sea of Ice 
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116 Game of Life 

117 Forty Thieves 

118 Bryan Boroihine 

119 Romance and Reality 

120 Ugolino 

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122 The Pilot 

123 Carpenter of Rouen 
1 4 King’s Rival 

125 Little Treasure 

126 Dombey and Son 

12" Parents and Guardians 
118 Jewett 

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129 Camille 

130 Married Life 

131 W T enloek of Wenlock 

132 Rose of Ettrickvale 

133 David Copperfield 

134 Aline, or the Rose of 

135 Pauline [Klllarney 

136 Jane Eyre 
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138 .dithlop 

139 Three Guardsmen 

140 Tom Cringle 

141 Henriette, the Forsaken 

142 Eustache Baudin 

143 Ernest Mai tra vers 

144 Bold Dragoons 
VOL. XIX. 

145 Dred, or the Dismal 
[ Swamp 

146 Last Days of Pompeii 

147 Esmeralda 

148 Peter Wilkins , 

149 Ben the Boatswain 

150 Jonathan Bradford 

151 Retribution 

152 Mineral! 

VOL. XX. 

153 French Spy 

154 W’eot of Wish-ton Wish 

155 Evil Genius 
166 Ben Bolt 

157 Sailor of France 

158 Red Mask 

159 Life of an Actress 

160 Wedding Day 


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141 All’s Fair in Love 

162 Hofer 

163 Self 

164 Cinderella 
166 Phantom 
166 Franklin [Moscow 
l£l The Gunmaker of 

168 The Love of a Prince 

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169 Son of the Night 

170 Rory O’More 

171 Golden Eagle 

172 Rienzi 

173 Broken Sword 

174 Rip Van Winkle 
176 Isabelle 

176 Heart of Mid Lothian 

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177 Actress of Padua 

178 Floating Beacon 

179 Bride of Lammerrnoor 

180 Cataract of the Ganges 

181 Robber of the Rhine 

182 School oi Reform 

183 Wandering Boys 

184 Mazeppa 

VOL. XXIV. 

185 Young New York 

186 The Victims 

187 Romance after Marriage 

188 Brigand 

189 Poor of New York 

190 Ambrose Gwinett 

191 Raymond and Agnes 

192 Gambler’s Fate 

VOi- XXV. 

193 Father and Son 

194 Massaniello 

195 Sixteen String Jack * 

196 Youthful Queen 

197 Skeleton Witness 

198 Innkeeper of Abbeville 

199 Miller and his Men 

200 Aladdin 

VOL. XXVI. 

201 Adrienne the Actress 

202 Undine 

203 J esse Brown 

204 Asmodeus 

205 Mormons 

206 Blanche of Brandywine 

207 Viola 

208 Deseret Deserted 

VOL XXVII. 

209 Americans in Paris 

210 Victorine 

211 Wizard of the Wave 

212 Castle Spectre 

213 Horse-shoe Robinson 

214 Armand, Mrs. Mowatt 

215 Fashion, Mrs. Mowatt 

216 Glance at New York 

VOL. XXVIII. 

217 Inconstant 

218 Uncle Tom’s Cabin 

219 Guide to the Stage 

220 Veteran 

221 Miller of New Jersey 

222 Dark Hour before Dawn 
s'Si M idtum’rNight’sDream 

[Laura Keene’s Edition 
224 Art and Artifice 
VOL. XXIX. 

J25 Poor Young Man 

226 Ossawattomie Brown 

227 Pope of Rome 

228 Oliver Twist 
2*19 Pauvrette 

230 Man in the Iron Mask 

231 Knight of Arva 

232 Moll Pitcher 

VOL. XXX. 

233 Black Eyed Susan 

234 Satan in Paris 

235 Rosina Meadows [ess 

236 West End, or Irish lleir- 

237 Six Degrees of Crime 

238 The Lady and the Devil 

239 Avenger, or Moor of Sici- 

240 Masks and Faces [ly 


VOL. XXXI. 

241 Merry Wives of Windsor 

242 Mary’s Birthday 

243 Sbandv Maguire 

244 Wild Oats 

245 Michael Erie 

246 Idiot Wituess 

247 Willow Copse 

248 People’s Lawyer 

VOL. XXXII. 

249 The Boy Martyrs 

250 Lucretia Borgia 

251 Surgeon of Paris 

252 Patrician’s Daughter 

253 Shoemaker of Touluuse 
■254 Momentous Question 

255 Love and Loyalty 

256 Robber’s Wife 
VOL XXXIII. 

257 Dumb Girl of Genoa 
2'8 Wreck Ashore 

259 Clari 

260 Rural Felicity 

261 Wallace 

262 Madelaine 

263 The Fireman 

264 Grist to the Mill 
VOL. XXXIV. 

265 Two Loves and a Life 

266 Annie Blake 

267 Steward 

*268 Captain Kyd 
269 Nick of the Woods 
•270 Marble Heart 

271 Second Love 

272 Dream at Sea 
VOL. XXXV. 

273 Breach of Promise 

274 Review* 

275 Lady of the Lake 

276 Still Water Runs Deep 
2*7 The Scholar 

278 Helping Hands 

279 1-aust and Marguerite 

280 Last Man 
VOL. XXXVI. 

281 Belle’s Stratagem 

282 Ohl and Young 

283 Raffuella 

284 Ruth Oakley 

285 British Sir re 
2h6 A Life's Ransom 
287 Giralda 

286 Time Tries All 
VOL. XXXVII. 

289 Ella Rosen burg 

290 Warlock of the Glea 

291 /elina 
*292. Beatrice 

293 Neighbor Jackwood 

294 Wonder 

295 Robert Emmet 
.296 Green Bushes 

VOL. XXXVIII. 

297 Flowers of the Forest 

298 A Bachelor of Arts 

299 The Midnight Banquet 

300 Husband of in Hour 

301 Love’s Labor Lost 

302 Naiad Queen 

303 Caprice 

304 Cradle of Liberty 
VOL. XXXIX. 

305 The Lost Ship 
.306 Country Squire 

307 Fraud and its Victims 

308 Putnam 

309 King ai d Deserter 

310 I .a Klatnmiiia 

311 A Hard Struggle 
•312 Gwinnette Vaughan 

VOL XL. 

313 The Love Knot [Judge 
.314 Lavster, or Not a Bad 

315 The Noble Heart 

316 Coriolanus 

.317 The Winter’s Tale 
318 Eveleen Wilson 
.319 I vanline 

320 Jonathan In England 


{French's Standard Drama Continued on )d page of Cover.) 


SAMUEL FRENCH, a6 West aad Street, New York City. 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Nailed Free on Request 















MISS ELIZABETH’S 
PRISONER 

a iRomanttc Comers In Cbree acts 


BY 

ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 


AND 


l\ 


E. LYALL SWETE 


Copyright, 1907, by Samuel French 


Caution: —Professionals and Amateurs are hereby notified that this play is 
fully copyrighted under the existing laws of the United States Government, 
and nobody is allowed to do this play without first having obtained 
written permission of Samuel French, 24 West aad St., New York City, 
U.S. A. 


New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

24 WEST 22D STREET 


London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street, 
STRAND 





I . ;';iste 

\ t » 

I TtyC OoDie^' Recsivgd 

ogr 2* 1907 

Gopyr/ffht tniry 

Apr -30 l<io-7 

CLASS & XXCi (\ro, 

/o WC, 

C opy ^ 


PS 29/7 

Sufis’ 

,q S 7 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Characters. 


Produced on April 16, 1904, at The Imperial Theatre 
London , w/if/i the following cast :— 

Captain Harry Peyton. ... 


Major John Colden. 

Sergeant Carrington. 

Mr. Valentine. 

Edwards.. 

Black Sam. 

Cuff. 

Mistress Sarah Williams. . 

Molly. 

Miss Elizabeth Philipse. ... 

The action of the play takes 
House, near New York. 

Time :—Late autumn, 1778, 


Of Lee’s Light Horse—Mr. 

Lewis Waller. 

Of the King’s 1st New Jer¬ 
sey Volunteers—Mr. Nor¬ 
man McKinnel. 

Of Lee’s Light Horse—Mr. 

Owen Rough wood. 

Mr. E. Lyall Swete. 

Mr. Arthur Lewis. 

Mr. H. Graves. 

Mr. C. Keene. 

Miss Lottie ^enne. 

Miss Constance Walton. 
Miss Grace Lane. 

place in the Philipse Manor 


2 






















































MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER-. 


ACT I. 

Scene: —The East Hall of the Philipse Manor House 
on the Hudson. On the right of stage a large fire¬ 
place, above it a door leading to the East Parlour, 
at the bade, in c. the large front door of house, on 
either side recessed windows with shutters. Above 
the front door runs a landing with balustrade, 
leading to a door r. u. e., windows in centre of 
landing which terminates in a flight of stairs to the 
l. of stage. Under the stairs a cupboard and l. u. 
e. a door unseen leading to Servants* quarters. 
Down L. below stairs a door leading into the dining 
room. Over the side of staircase hangs a chande¬ 
lier—one candle in it. Candle sconces right and 
left of fireplace. A large hall table, an easy chair, 
a settle by fire, etc. Afternoon twilight seen 
through windows—stage gloomy—every time the 
front door is opened you hear the wind scream. 
Door — Wind. 

(.4s the curtain rises, the slam of an inner door is 
heard off l. u. e. then footsteps approaching and 
John Edwards, steward to the family, enters l. u. 

Note. The Stage Directions throughout this play are 
given from the standpoint of the audience, r. meaning the 
Audience’s Right, l. the Audience’s Left. 

3 



4 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


e. He is about 40, and is quietly dressed in dark 

colours.) 

Edwards. Ugh ! What a night! What a draught! 
(looking round hall) Oh, the blessed fools! They’ve 
left the landing window open! (goes up stairs and 
shuts window) no sense! A pack of silly whining 
trollops. And the fire almost out again. (he goes to 
fireplace, rubbing his hands, he kneels and tries to 
mend fire R. A pause. The front door c. is thrown 
open by Black Sam, a big, powerful nigger about 30, 
who enters with large basket of fire-wood) Ah, there 
you are, Sam—Ugh ! Drat it, shut the door! 

(Sam shuts door.) 

Set it down here, boy. 

Sam. Yes, Massa Edwards. (brings firewood to 
Edwards r. c. hands wood to Edwards r.) 

Edwards. ’Tis an ill job to get the fire to burn 
this weather. We shall be having the blue mould 
on the walls if we don’t watch it. 

Sam. Yes, Massa Edwards. Wish de fam’ly was 
back fro’ New York. Guess dey keep de ole house 
wa’m. 

Edwards. (takes log from Sam) They’ll not re¬ 
turn till the war’s over, and not then if things bide 
as bad for the King’s troops as they be going at 
present. You’ll have time before ’tis dark to pluck 
a few of them winter apples from the long orchard 
if so be the rebels have left us any. You’ll find a 
basket in the closet under the stairs. 

(Sam goes to cupboard l. Edwards puts log on fire.) 

A roasted apple or two won’t come amiss at the 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


5 


supper table. ’Tis little change we get in the victuals 
now-a-days, though, thank the Lord, we’ve plenty in 
the larder still. 

Sam. (coming c. leaves cupboard open) Am dis 
de basket, Massa Edwards? 

Edwards. Yes, that’ll do. Have a good look 
round and bring as many as you can, and see you 
don’t waste time a-chattering and philandering with 
any of them parsonage wenches. The last time I 
sent you on an errand, you spent an hour by the 
clock with Mistress Babcock’s black Kate at the 
wood-house. 

Sam. Oh, Massa Edwards I don’t speak Mistress 
Babcock’s lily Kate dese days. Las’ time I foun’ her 
wid one ob de Lancey cow-boys, a-sittin’ on a rail. 
Dey was so took up adamiration ob demselves, dey 
neber notice nothin’ till I pushed dem in de ditch! 
“ Dirty black trash! ” says lily Kate when she could 
speak for de mud. An’ I laugh and says “ De black 
mud’s dirtier,” an’ den de sojer feller laugh, an’ I 
hit in de eye, an’ Missie Babcock’s black Kate she 
smack me on de head an— 

* 

Edwards. Well, well, ( rising) be off with you 
anyway, and get back soon. ’Tis most dark now. 

(Wind.) 

(Letting Sam out c. and locks door, goes to cupboard, 

and gets candlestick, shuts cupboard and goes R. 

to fireplace as he speaks.) 

’Tis a good thing we had new bolts to the door. 
What with the King’s troops a-foraging on the one 
side, and them Continental devils a-raiding on the 
other, and Skinners and De Lancey a-chopping in 


6 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


between, I ain’t happy till the house is locked up for 
the night. ( coming down to fireplace) Neutral 
ground they calls it. Tom Tiddler’s more like, it’s 
a bit too neutral, says I, and how all’s to end’s more 
than I know. 

(Molly Edwards, his niece, a smart young servant 

maid, enters l. u. e. comes lightly down to him.) 

Molly. Uncle! ( over table c.) 

Edwards. (dropping candlestick in fireplace) 
Lor’, Molly ! I thought you was a ghost! 

Molly. Where’s Black Sam? 

Edwards. Gone to fetch apples. Don’t ye be 
going about the place so sudden like. What d’ye 
want him for? 

Molly, (c.) He ain’t brought the firewood, the 
fire’s almost out in the kitchen, and cook’s crying 
agin ( coming R. c.) 

Edwards. There’s wood — ( points to wood in 
basket) 

(Molly puts logs in apron.) 

» 

Help yourself, lass! ’Tis time to get supper from 
the look of the day outside. Leave the logs awhile, 
Molly, and put to the shutters. I’ll have to make a 
light. 

(Molly goes to shutters. Edwards lights candle at 

fire.) 

Molly. Lor’, Uncle. Don’t thee light the candle 
till I get ’em to. ( runs to window R. and pulls the 
shutters) One of them Skinners ’ll be shooting 
through the windows else for pure devilment if they 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


7 


see a light. Worse than wild Indians they be. 
{comes down R. c. fills apron with logs of wood) 
Edwards, {rising and coming to basket r. c.) 
No worse than t’other side. Rebels or King’s men 
they’re all the same. Run along to cook, Molly, and 
get the victuals on. 


(Molly, having taken sufficient wood, is going l. u. 
•e. Edwards places basket above fireplace r.) 

If she’d do less snivelling and more cooking— 

{Hoofs start.) 

***** ' 

time wouldn’t hang so heavy. 

Molly. Lor’, Uncle, what’s that? {swings round 
and comes down l. drops log of wood by stairs) 
Edwards, {up r. c.) ’Ssh! 

Molly. Oh, don’t thee, Uncle, don’t thee. 
They’re all about the house, I know, {screams) 
Edwards, {going up to doors c.) Be quiet— 
listen! ’Tis horses, wench, turned off the Square 
Mile Road. They’re coming up the avenue. 

Molly, (l. c.) Lord send ’tis King’s men! 
Edwards. ’Tain’t troops. Too light going for 
them. Look through the landing window. 


(Molly goes up stairs l. dropping wood.) 

Drat the girl, can’t ye hold your noise? See who 
’ ’tis. 

{Hoofs stop.) 


Be they coming to the house? 

(Molly drops all the logs.) 

Don’t drop them logs, I tell ye. 

Molly, {at window landing l.) Uncle, there’s 


8 MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 

three of ’em. They be getting down. Can’t thee 
hear ’em? Oh, lor’, we shall all be murdered, (flops 
on top step, covers head with apron) 

Edwards, (c.) Don’t ye be a fool! Come down. 
They’ll eat our supper, and that’s about the worst 
of it. ’Sssh! 

(Knock at door.) 

Molly, (rises) Don’t thee open door, Uncle, 
don’t thee! (coming down three steps) 

Edwards. Hush, you fool! Who’s there? (at 
door c.) 

Colden. (speaking indistinctly outside) Make 
haste—open. 

Edwards, (louder) Who d’ye say? 

Elizabeth. ( outside, quite clearly) It’s I, Ed¬ 
wards. Don’t keep me standing here in the wind all 
night. 

Molly, (running down stairs, crossing to table 
r. c. takes candle and goes up l. c.) It’s Miss 
Elizabeth, Uncle. It’s Miss Elizabeth! 

(Edwards opens two doors. Wind. Molly holds 
candle, shielding it from draught. Enter Miss 
Elizabeth Philipse, a beautiful girl of 20, in 
riding habit, hair unpowdered, dressed low, then 
Major Colden about 30, or so, in spic and span 
regimentals, large cloak, powdered hair or wig, 
carries basket of provisions. Then Cuff, a small 
black boy in groom's livery, carrying a portmanteau 
and green band-box. Edwards closes door and 
comes down round R. to fireplace.) 

Elizabeth. Here we are at last! What a ride! 
Ah, Molly, is that you, girl ? Br-r-r! Light up my 



MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


9 


chamber, Molly, and have a fire in it, then make a 
dish of tea and get me something to eat. 

(Molly going to stairs.) 

Don’t leave ns in the dark, child. Cuff, take those 
things to my room. 

(Cuff goes upstairs with luggage to room n. 
Molly returns and lights the candles in sconce 
L. then goes upstairs and exits by door R. on land¬ 
ing. Edwards comes round r. to fireplace.) 

Well, ( sits in chair r. c. pulling off gloves) Ed¬ 
wards ! I’ve come to spend a week at the Manor 
House. Lud, Edwards, your eyes will fall out of 
your head. ’Tis I, man, and this is Major Colden. 
Have you never seen us before? 

(Major Colden takes candle from sconce l. and 
lights all the sconces from l. to R. then sits r.) 

Edwards. I scarcely expected any of the family 
out from New York these times, miss. There— 
Elizabeth. I suppose not. You wouldn’t be 
John Edwards if you did. 

Edwards. But— 

Elizabeth. Oh, I know what you would like to 
say. ’Tis a wild, foolish, mighty dangerous thing, 
but I’ve done it all the same. Besides, I had reasons. 

Edwards, (moves a step to her, anxiously) 
Reasons, ma’am. 

(Wind.) 

Elizabeth. Yes, the strongest. First—I— 
wished to. Second—nobody wanted me to. So, 
there’s an end to the matter. 


10 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(The door Hows open.) } 

(Wind.) 

Oh, bless the wind. 

(Edwards goes up quickly and locks door c.) 
Have someone put away the horses, or they’ll be 
shivering, (rises) ’tis mighty cold, (goes to fire¬ 
place, kneels) 

Edwards. I’ll go myself, ma’am. There’s only 
Black Sam. (going l. u. e.) And he isn’t back 
from the orchard yet. 

(Cuff re-enters R. on landing and comes down.) 

Elizabeth. No, let Cuff go! There are chickens 
in the basket, and if you’ve any wine— 

Edwards. Yes, miss, (taking up basket) 

Elizabeth, (calling upstairs to Molly) Molly! 

Molly, (at door) Yes, miss. 

Elizabeth. Molly, start a fire in the room next 
mine for Mistress Williams, she’ll be over from the 
Parsonage, Edwards, in a few minutes, (to Cuff) 
Cuff, get the stable key and fodder down the horses. 
Edwards will give it you. 

Edwards. Very well, miss. There are the keys, 
boy. (Cuff takes keys from peg by cupboard and is 
going c. Edwards pointing off l.) No, no, the back 
door! I’ll tell cook you’ll take supper at once, miss. 

(Cuff exits l. u. e.) 

Elizabeth. Yes, Edwards. Set it in the West 
Parlour, a good fire and plenty of candles, (crosses 
l.) the dear old place smells like a vault. 

Edwards. Yes, miss, (going l. u. e.) 

Colden. Tell Cuff he may feed my horse, but 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


11 


not take the saddle oft. I must ride back to New 
York as soon as the beast is rested. 

Edwards. Yes, sir. 

(Goes off with chickens l. u. e.) 

Elizabeth, (at door l. i. e.) Why, Colden, you 
must stay for a bite of supper. 

Colden. (rises) No, thank you. T am not 
hungry, (goes to fireplace) 

Elizabeth. A glass of wine, then, if there’s any 
in the house. 

Colden. No wine, I thank you. 

Elizabeth. As you will, (opens parlour door 
l. i. e.) Ugh, how dark and lonely the house is. No 
wonder Auntie chose the parsonage to live in. (closes 
door and crosses to table) Well, I’ll warm up the 
place a bit. Sorry you can’t stay with us, Major. 
(sits on table R. c.) 

Colden. ’Tis only you who send me away. You 
let me escort you here because no gentleman of your 
family will lend himself to such caprice, and then, 
having no further present use for me, you send me 
about my business. 

(Molly comes down stairs, lights candles in sconces 
on walls in hall, then goes into parlour, lights up 
length off L. I. E. lights fire and candles, comes out, 
goes to kitchen. During scene, servants help in 
laying supper in parlour, etc. General bustle of 
life and preparation.) 

Elizabeth. But I do have further present use for 
you. You are going back to New York to inform 
my dear timid parents that I’ve arrived here safe. 
They’ll not sleep till you tell them so. 



12 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Colden. One of your slaves might bear that 
news as well. 

Elizabeth. And are you not my slave, sir ? 

(Colden turns away to fireplace .) 

You say so often enough. Oh, Major, ( points with 
riding whip) there’s a big black dog on your back. 

(Colden starts, goes round R. and comes down l. c.) 

(laughs ) What a man you are! You forget that 
my devotion to King George won’t let me hold one of 
his officers from duty longer than need be. 

Colden. (comes forward leaning on chair c.) 
I’ve incurred the anger of your entire family by 
bringing you here, and yet I was as much opposed to 
it as anyone. 

Elizabeth. ’Twas a choice then between their 
anger and mine. Don’t think I would not have come 
even if you had refused your escort. I’d have made 
the trip alone with Cuff, that’s all. 

Colden. (c.) I shall be blamed none the less. 
Elizabeth. Nay, I’ll wager by this time my 
amiable papa and my solicitous mamma are in such 
a state of mind about me, that when you report my 
safe consignment to Aunt Sarah’s care, they’ll fairly 
worship you as a messenger of good news. ( jumps 
down off table and kneels up on chair c.) 

(Edwards enters from l. u. e. with candelabras, 
brings one down and sets it on table R. c. goes to 
room down L. with the other.) 

Now do look cheerful, Jack, the journey’s at an end, 
there is not a soldier out between here and King’s 
Bridge. I’m as safe as a church, and you will get 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 13 

back with a whole skin if a wet one. B-r-r-r! I’ll 
have Molly make a fire in every room in Ihe house. 
(goes to fireplace) 

Colden. {takes step forward below chair) And 
attract every rebel in the neighbourhood. 

Elizabeth. La la la! They won’t eat me. And 
as I don’t wear the King’s uniform, I am afraid 
they won’t even run away with me. 

(Movement by Colden.) 

Oh, lud, don’t be silly. You know what I mean, 
they don’t imprison petticoats. Now, pray, don’t 
pout, Colden. ’Tis foolish! 

Colden. {turns away, goes up c.) I daresay. A 
man in love does many foolish things. 

{Enter Edwards.) 

Elizabeth. Then we are a pair. J 

{Knock at door.) 

That must be Aunt Sarah! {going up between table 
and settee) Let her in, Edwards, the poor dear will 
freeze. 

{Wind. Enter Mistress Williams, smartly dressed 
and powdered, a large hooded cloak, she comes 
hurriedly forward and embraces Elizabeth.) 

Sarah. Elizabeth, my dear child! What could 
have induced you to come out here at a time like 
this? Ah, my dear Mr.—Oh, lud, I forget— Major 
Colden {curtseys) I never shall learn to call you 
by your uniform. Don’t lock the door yet, someone 
is coming. ’Tis old Mr. Valentine. He offered to 
show me over from the parsonage, where he hap- 


It 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


pened to be calling, so I did not wait for Grace Bab¬ 
cock’s boy. 

Elizabeth. You found Mr. Valentine pleasanter 
company, I suppose, Auntie dear. He’s a widower 
again, is lie not? 

Sarah. Fie, child! (sweeps round room c. to r. 

and sits on settee by fire) He’s but a farmer, and 
eighty years old at that. Though, to be sure, the 
attentions of a man of his experience and judgment 
are not to be considered lightly. 

(Elizabeth sits on arm of settee.) 

Sarah. We started from the parsonage together, 
but I was impatient, and got ahead. He doesn’t walk 
as briskly as he did twenty years ago, does he, Cap¬ 
tain ? 

Colden. (c.) Nay, Mistress Sarah, my memory 
must be as poor as yours at so remote a date. We 
were both too young to judge. 

Sarah. La, Elizabeth, hear him. What! a com¬ 
pliment, Colonel, and I meant to scold you for 
bringing Elizabeth out here. Sir, you are forgiven 
everything. (makes an elaborate curtsey) 

(Wind.) 

Ah, there’s Mr. Valentine at last! 

(Enter Valentine, a hale old man of 80, snuff 
coloured clothes, bald head, covered with small 
brown George wig. Tie carries stick, lantern, and 
pipe. Colden moves down l.) 

Valentine. Your servant, ladies, servant, Major! 
(puts down lantern on table at back l. c. closes and 
bolts door, picks up lantern and blows out light) 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


15 


Whew, windy night, Miss Elizabeth, windy night, 
Major Colden! Ah, Mistress Sarah, you left me in 
the lurch. ( takes off cloak, hanging it on pegs up 
L.) Most blew me off my legs it did. Winter’s 
going to set in airly this year. 

(Molly enters l. u. e. with tray, glasses, table - 
cloth, knives, forks, etc., and exits l. i. e. Ed¬ 
wards follows with tray of chickens, plates.) 

There ain’t been such a frosty fall since ’64, when 
the river was froze over as fur down as Spuyten 
Duyvel. 

Elizabeth. You’ll stay to supper, I hope, Mr. 
Valentine? 

Valentine. Thank "ee, ma’am, I wouldn’t mind 
a sup and a bite afore trudging back to the Hill. 

(Elizabeth on settee R. c. and Sarah r. seated on 
settee. Valentine c. crosses to Major l. c.) 

(c.) Fine pair of gals yonder, Major! 

Colden. (l. c.) Girls? 

Valentine, (c.) Oh, we all know what’s be¬ 
twixt you and the niece. How about the Aunt and 
me taking a lesson from you two, eh? 

Colden. (l.) What, Mr. Valentine, do you 
think of marrying? 

Valentine, (c.) Why not? I’ve been married 
afore, h’ain’t I ? What’s to hinder ? 

Colden. Why, there’s the matter of ago. 
Valentine. Oh, the lady is not so old. ( goes up 
c. hangs muffler on peg L. then comes c.) 

Sarah. Did you ever hesr of such rashness, Mr. 
Valentine, a young girl like Elizabeth coming out 


16 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


here in time of war ? La me! I can’t understand 
her if she is my sister’s child. 

Colden. ( crosses to chair below fireplace R.) We 
all opposed it, but—you know Elizabeth ! ( sits R.) 

Elizabeth. ( rising, moving to centre) Yes, 

Elizabeth always has her way. 

(Miss Sarah moves up on settee and motions Val¬ 
entine to sit by her, he does so.) 

I was hungry for a sight of the place, and the more 
the old house is in danger, the more I love it. The 
place does not seemed to have suffered any. 

(Molly enters l. i. e. and exits l. u. e.) 

They have not even quartered troops here. ( sits in 
chair c.) 

Valentine. ( sitting on settee r. c.) Hot since 
the American officers stayed here in the fall o’ ’75. 
( shews pipe and ’bacca box to Miss Sally) Do you 
mind me, ma’am ? I reckon you’ll be safe enough 
here, Miss Elizabeth. ( filling pipe) 

Elizabeth, (c.) Of course I shall! Why, the 
King’s troops patrol all this part of the country. 
Lord Cathcart told me so at King’s Bridge, and we 
have naught to fear from them. 

Colden. (r.) That’s all well enough, but there 
are the rebel regulars, the Dragoons, Lee’s Light 
Horse, they will be raiding down to our very lines one 
of these days if only in retaliation 

Valentine, (r. c.) Ay, ’twas but t’other day 
Lee’s Light Horse fell upon the Hessian Jagers 
’tween Dobb’s Ferry and Tarrytown and killed ever 
so many of ’em, and I wasn’t sorry for that neither. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


17 


Colden. (r. l.) Oho! You belong to the op¬ 
position. 

Elizabeth, (c.) 

& Mr. Valentine! 

Sarah, (r. 2.) 

Valentine. Oh, I’m neither here nor there, 
’tain’t for me to take sides. Why, ’twas but last 
Spring I buried Mrs. Valentine Number Two. I 
can’t afford to join her yet awhile. 

(Elizabeth turns her head away, laughing.) 

Besides, as I said to Mistress Sally here, I shouldn’t 
wonder—it might be Number Three yet—no, no, 
’tain’t for me to take sides, is it, Miss Sally? 

Sarah. ( goes to hack of settee) Well, Heaven 
knows there are enough on either side to rob us of 
peace and comfort. 

Valentine. Not to speak of good spirits, vic¬ 
tuals and tobacco, (rises, lights pipe at candelabra 
on table, then crosses to fireplace) 

(Enter Molly with tray of tea, goes upstairs.) 

Elizabeth. Well, I have no doubt, Edwards has 
contrived to hide away enough provisions for our use, 
so we shall not suffer from hunger, and as for Lee’s 
Light Horse, I defy them and all other rebels! 

(Hoofs.) 

(crosses to l.) Ah, Molly, is that the tea, girl? 
Come, Auntie! 

(Aunt Sally rises and crosses to r. c.) 

(goes to staircase) Horses! (stands listening half¬ 
way up stairs) 

Sarah, (r. c. whispers) Hessians, perhaps. 


18 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PttlSONEft. 


Valentine. Or De Lancey’s cowboys, they’re 
riding towards the Manor House. 

Golden. (going c.) Let us hope they are friends. 

(Cloak falls off his shoulders. Sarah arranges it 
so as to hide uniform.) 

Elizabeth. Maybe it is Lee’s Light Horse, in 
that case, Mr. Valentine, we should tremble for our 
lives, I suppose. 

(Hoofs stop.) 

Sarah. Whoever they are, they have stopped be¬ 
fore the house. 

(Knocking at door. Molly drops cup from landing. 
Sarah screams and clutches Valentine. Ed¬ 
wards enters l. u. e.) 

Elizabeth, (l.) A very valiant knock! It cer¬ 
tainly must be Lee’s Light Horse! Will you please 
to open the door, Major Colden? 

Colden. (c.) What? 

Elizabeth, (l.) Certainly, to show we are not 
afraid. 

(Knock—knocking again. Colden and Edwards go 
to doors. They open both. Enter Peyton, a 
smart young officer of 25, unpowdered hair or wig, 
blue uniform, travel-stained, and Sergeant Car¬ 
rington. Molly shows a frightened face at bed¬ 
room door r. Edwards closes doors at once.) 

Peyton. Your servant, ladies and gentlemen. 
(salutes) 

Elizabeth/ (from staircase) Who are you? 
Peyton, (quite officially) Harry Peyton, Cap¬ 
tain of Lee’s Light Horse. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


19 


Elizabeth. What do you want? 

Peyton, (c.) I want to see the person in charge 
of this house, and I want a horse. 

Elizabeth. I am at present mistress of the house, 
and I am neither selling horses nor giving them. 

Peyton. Your pardon, Madam, but a horse I 
must have. The service I am on permits no delay. 

(Edwards shuts door.) 

Elizabeth. I doubt not. The Hessians are prob¬ 
ably chasing you. ( comes down stairs halting three 
stairs from bottom) 

Peyton. ( coming down c.) On the contrary, I 
am chasing the Hessians. At Boar Hill yonder my 
horse gave out. Passing here, we saw horses being 
led into the stables—I ordered my men to put my 
saddle on the likeliest, and they are now doing so. 

Elizabeth. How dare you, sir! ( coming down 
to foot of stairs) 

Peyton. Why, madam, ’tis for the service of the 
army. 

Elizabeth. The army! 

Peyton. The army requires the horse and I have 
come to pay for it. 

Elizabeth. It is not for sale. 

Peyton. I regret that that makes no difference, 
you know the custom of war. 

Elizabeth. The custom of robbery. 

Peyton. Robbery is not for the custom of Harry 
Lee’s Dragoons, madam, the practice of your friends 
must have misled you. (taking out pocket book) I 
shall pay as you choose, with a receipt to present at 
the quartermaster’s office or with Continental bills. 





20 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Elizabeth. Continental rubbish! 

Peyton. You prefer that, do you? ( takes from 
pocket book a number of bills, counts some, re¬ 
pockets rest, hands the bills to Elizabeth) Allow¬ 
ing for due depreciation there’s a fair price then. 

Elizabeth, [not touching them) Pah! I would 
not touch your wretched Continental trash ! I would 
not let one of ray black women put her hair up in it. 
Money, do you call it? I would not give a shilling 
of the King’s for a houseful of it. 

Peyton. Your pardon, madam. Since July ’76 
there has been no King in America. I leave the 
bills, madam, (puts them on newel) ’Tis all I can 
do, and more than many would, seeing that Colonel 
Philipse, the owner of this place is no friend to the 
American Cause, and may fairly be levied on as 
an enemy. 

Elizabeth, (l.) Colonel Philipse is my father, 
sir! 

Peyton, (l. c.) Then I am glad I have been so 
punctilious in the matter. Egad, I think I have been 
as scrupulous as the Commander-in-Chief himself. 

Elizabeth. The Commander-in-Chief, Sir Henry 
Clinton, pays in gold, (cross R. c.) 

Peyton. I mean our Commander-in-Chief. 

Elizabeth. Oh, Mr. Washington. 

Peyton. His Excellency, General Washington. 

(Carrington goes off c.) 

I think the horse must be ready—so I bid you good 
evening, (bows to Elizabeth, then to others) 

Elizabeth, (rushes up to door c. looking off l.) 
Oh, this outrage. It is Cato they are leading out, 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


21 


my Cato under my very eyes. I forbid it. He shall 
not go. Where are Cuff and the other servants? 
Why don’t they prevent this? (turning on Colden) 
And you, Jack? 

Peyton, (down l.) My troop would make short 
work of any who interfered, madam. 

Elizabeth. Oh, that I should have to endure 
this! Oh, if I had but a company of soldiers at my 
back you—you— dog of a rebel— (paces hall, passes 
newel post, sees hills, tears them violently across and 
throws them about the floor, crossing over to R. then 
up table r. c.) 

Colden. (c. coming forward) Sir, I know the 
custom of war, but since a horse must be taken, you 
will find one of mine in the stable, will you not take 
it instead of this lady’s? 

Peyton, (coming l. c.) Mr. Colden, if I re¬ 
member ! 

Colden. You remember right. 

Peyton, (going to him c.) And you are doubt¬ 
less now an officer in some Tory corps? 

Colden. No, sir—I am neutral. 

(Elizabeth turns with disgust down R.) 

Peyton. Gad, sir. From your sentiments the 
last time I met you, I should have thought you’d 
have taken up arms for the King. 

Colden. (glancing quickly at Elizabeth) I 
have modified my opinions. 

Peyton. They were strong enough then. You 
remember how you upheld them with your rapier in 
Bayard’s woods. 

Colden. I remember. 


22 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Peyton. And so you are neutral? (laughing 
pleasantly) I am glad, Mr. Golden, that we do not 
meet again to your disadvantage. 

Colden. How so, sir? 

Peyton. Why! Had you worn British or Tory 
uniform— 

(Enter Carrington c.) 

? twould be my duty to take you prisoner. 
Carrington. Eeacly, sir. 

Peyton. Eight, Carrington. ( going up to¬ 
wards door C. turns to Colden) As to your re¬ 
quest, Mr. Colden, my saddle is now on the horse, 
and there is no time to change. I must ride at once. 
This time we part as friends. 

(Colden holding his cloak with both hands can only 

bow.) 

Elizabeth. (sweeping round to l. by newel) 
Friends! May you ride to your destruction for your 
insolence, you bandit! 

Peyton. ( bowing) Thank you, madam. I shall 
ride where I must. Farewell, my horse is waiting. 
Elizabeth, (up to door c.) His horse! 

Peyton. (outside) Mount! Forward! Gallop! 

(Bugle call. Hoofs.) 

Elizabeth. Oh, the Highwayman ! 

Sarah. Give the gentleman his due, he paid for 
it with these, (pointing to bills as she comes for¬ 
ward—sits c.) 

Elizabeth. Paid! He has stolen the horse, I 
tell you. 

Valentine. Egad, Major Colden, if Mistress 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


23 


Sally had not covered you up when she did, he might 
have stolen more from Miss Elizabeth than her horse, 
I’m thinking. (sits on chair r.) 

Elizabeth. (at door) Your pleasantry, Mr. 
Valentine, is ill-timed, the discovery would have been 
more to the Major’s credit than the denial of His 
Majesty’s uniform. 

Colden. Elizabeth! 

(Hoofs stop.) 

Elizabeth, (at door) Oh, to see the miserable 
rebel mounted on my Cato. 

Sarah. He must look vastly well on him! 

Elizabeth. (coining down l. after slamming 
door) Look well, the brigand ! 

Sarah. Nay, I think hte’s quite handsome. 

Elizabeth. Pah, you think every man hand¬ 
some. 

Sarah. Oh, Elizabeth, you know I’m the least 
susceptible of women. Am I not, Mr. Valentine? 

Valentine. ’Tain’t for me to take sides. 

Elizabeth, (stamping her foot, to Colden) Oh, 
if you had only had some troops here, (right up c., 
turns and down again) 

Colden. (comes c.) I know it. May the rascal 
perish for finding me at such a disadvantage. ’Twas 
my choice between denying my colours and becoming 
his prisoner. 

Elizabeth, (walking up and down) So you 
knew the fellow before? 

Colden. Yes. To do the man justice, he comes 
of a good stock. I met him in ’75, he was passing 
through New York to his home in Virginia, after he 
had deserted from the King's army. 




24 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Elizabeth. (stands astonished.) 

Colden. Though American born, his father, 
through the influence of some English relatives, was 
able to purchase him an ensign’s commission in the 
63rd Foot. After doing garrison duty for some years 
in Ireland, he was ordered with his regiment to 
Boston. Once here he seems to have had some scru¬ 
ples of conscience. 

Elizabeth. Conscience! (sits on chair L.) 

Colden. Yes, the fellow thought that he would 
have no more fighting to do in America against the 
Americans than any English offic'er in any English 
garrison town has to do against the English. When 
he found that it was no local squabble, hut a general 
rising of the whole country, the lout wavered, the 
example of his fellow Virginians, Lee, Jefferson, 
Washington decided him, and he made up his mind 
to resign. 

Sarah, (c.) And did he? 

Colden. He had his resignation written out but 
had not handed it in when his company was marched 
out to attack the rebels at Charlestown. In the heat 
of the fight just as the rebels broke, he gave the 
letter to a sergeant, and told him to take it to his 
Colonel, then he made off. He had the impudence 
to relate the story to me at a coffee house in New 
York. I called him a rascally turn-coat—so we 
fought. 

Sarah. And what happened ? 

Colden. He disarmed me. He had taken les¬ 
sons from a London fencing master. (crosses up r. 
and down to fireplace.) 

Valentine. So if the young man had waited 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


25 


till his resignation had been accepted, he’d have 
been free to do as he liked. 

Colden. Well, that’s his version of the affair. 
(Going to fireplace ) Such a thing was never known 
before. The desertion of an officer of the 63rd, and 
the Colonel has the word of Sir Henry Clinton that 
the fellow shall hang if they ever catch him. 

Elizabeth. ( rising and going up c.) Then I 
hope my horse will carry him into their hands. 

(Valentine rises, goes R. c. Elizabeth goes 
up C. and looks out of front-door. 

Sarah. If our troops take him, they’ll hang him. 
(rises, cross doivn r.) Gracious, as if there were 
so many handsome young men that any could be 
spared. Why can’t they hang the old and ugly ones 
instead ? 

Valentine, (coming forward) Eh! 

Sarah, (r.) Not you, dear Mr. Valentine, not 
you. 

(Enter Edwards l. i. e.) 

Edwards. Supper, ladies. 

(Exits.) 

Sarah. Ah, we’ll to supper, you and I, and leave 
these young lovers to follow at their leisure. 

Valentine. Ay, ’tis ill wrestling with love on 
an empty stomach—better to fill it, say I. Come on, 
Miss Sally, come on! 

(Exeunt Sarah and Valentine l. i. e.) 

Elizabeth. My poor Cato, I shall never see him 
again, (shutting door and coming down l.) 


26 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Colden. We may get him back some day* 

Elizabeth. If you can do that, John Coiden, 
and have this rebel hanged who dared treat me so— 

Colden. Well? 

Elizabeth. Then I think I shall almost be really 
in love with you. 

Colden. A rare promise from one’s betrothed. 

Elizabeth. Heavens, Jack! Don’t I do the best 
I can to love you ? I’m sure I come as near loving 
you as loving anybody, what more can I do than that 
and promising my hand? ( extends her hand. Col¬ 
den kisses it.) Don’t look dismal, Major, I pray, 
and now make haste back to New York. ( crosses R.) 

Colden. (gets hat, rapier from l. i. e.) How 
can I go and leave you exposed to the risk of such an¬ 
other visit? 

Elizabeth. Oh, that fellow showed no disposi¬ 
tion to injure me. Trust me to take c^re of myself. 

Colden. But promise that if there is any sign 
of danger, you will fly to New York. 

Elizabeth. That will depend. 

Colden. ( over settee) At least you will send 
a man to one of our outposts for help? I shall 
notify our officers below that this rebel force is out, 
and our men may cut it off somewhere. Farewell, 
then, I shall return for you in a week. 

Elizabeth. In a week! 

Colden. (goes toward the door, turns again) 
’Tis little reward you give my devotion, Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth. Why, am I not going to give you 
myself? My parents wish me to be married to Major 
John Colden, of the King’s 1st New Jersey Yolun- 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


27 


teers, and being an obedient child ( drops curtesy) 
I have consented. You should be very happy. Major. 

(Major picks up liat, turns, looks at her . is going 
Co speak, checks himself and goes out c.) 

Elizabeth. Poor John, he does try my obedi¬ 
ence. ( coming down stage r. c.) 

(Sound of Colden’s horse going away. Noise out¬ 
side. Cuff flings himself into the hall, crying 
breathlessly.) 

Cuff. Oh, Missy Lisbeth, Missy Lisbeth, don’t 
hab me whipped, for de Lord’s sake, Missy Lisbeth ! 
(flings himself c. by chair at Elizabeth’s feet) 
Dey’s gone and took Cato, dey’s gone and took Cato! 
An’, oh, Missy Lisbeth, Missy Lisbeth, I couldn’t 
help it. 

Elizabeth. No, Cuff, you couldn’t help it, braver 
folk than you couldn’t help it, and you shall not be 
whipped. 

Cuff. Oh, tank de Lord, Missy Lisbeth. I tole 
de Lord to stop dem takin’ de horses. I say, “ Lord, 
stop de horses, stop de men, stop de horses, stop de 
guns,” but lie neber stopped and they neber stopped 
and nothin’ stopped at all. (takes a long breath.) 

Elizabeth. Well, Cuff, tank de -Lord you've 
stopped, and now shut the door and give the stable 
keys to Edwards. 

(Cuff goes to door.) 

Though ’tis little use locking the stable door when 
the steed is stolen. 

(1st bugle call p. p.) 


28 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(crosses ov&r to l.) I will never laugh at old saws 
again. 

(.Distant sound of firing. Cuff drops keys and 

bangs door.) 

Cuff. Oh, lor’, Missy Lisbeth, dey’s shootin’— 
dey’s shootin’ eberyting, and eberybody. 

(Firing.) 

Oh, dey’s shootin’ me. (runs to Elizabeth l.) 

Elizabeth. Cuff, you big baby, if you behave 
like this any more, I will have you whipped. 
(Enter Sarah l. i. e. Cuff goes over to table r. c.) 

Sarah. Elizabeth! Oh, child, there’s firing be¬ 
yond Locust Hill. 

It’s on the Mile Square Road, Mr. Valentine says. 
Elizabeth. Mr. Valentine has a fine ear. 
Sarah. He says the rebel light horse— 

(Firing again.) 

—must have met the Hessians— (goes c.) there ’tis 
again. 

(Cuff squeals and hides under the table trembling.) 

Elizabeth. Come, come, Auntie, never show the 
white feather. Look how brave Cuff is. And to 
leave Mr. Valentine too. I’ll warrant he is rating 
the chicken’s wing at a higher value than your 
chicken heart. 

Sarah. How can you jest so. Naturally Mr. 
Valentine wished to protect me, but I thought per¬ 
haps Sergeant Colden— (cross c.) 

Elizabeth, (l.) Colden! Oh, he’s gone. 
Sarah. Gone? Good gracious! 

Elizabeth. Yes, and there are only Cuff and 
Molly and Dinah the cook left as a bodyguard. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 29 

Sarah. ( crossing to her) And dear Mr. Valen¬ 
tine. 

Elizabeth. Ah, you are right. A man who has 
buried two wives should be brave enough for any 
thing. Lock the door, Cuff. Come along to supper, 
Auntie, and if you are nervous afterwards, (lower 
ing her voice) Mr. Valentine shall hold your hand. 

Sarah. Oh, my dear! 

(Exeunt Elizabeth and Sarah l. i. e.) 
(Enter Molly on landing with lighted candles, etc.) 

Molly. Now then, Cuff, you little black nigger, 
come and help me with the sconces. We’re not so 
short of candles that the quality need sit in the dark. 

Cuff. Ain’t you awful frightened? Dey’s 
shootin’ up de road. 

Molly. Why, ’tis a mile away beyond Locust 
Hill. They won’t shoot you. 

Cuff. Oh, I’se not frightened. I take a lot of 
shootin’ I do. Miss Lisbeth says I’m very brave man 
I am. You sure dey’s up Locust Hill? 

(Sam, outside, running to door, throws it open.) 

Molly, (l.) No, they’re at the door. 

Sam. (Enters l. u. e. shouting) Cato’s back, 
Cato’s back! 

(He trips over Cuff, who is on his knees — Cuff 

howls, Molly squeals, Sam swears, Molly sinks 

on stairs.) 

Sam. Get up, you little black imp of darkness. 
(boxing Cuff’s head) What for you sprawling over 
de floor—you very bad dirty little black nigger up¬ 
setting a colored genlema-n. 


30 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(Cuff goes R.) 

Molly. Lor, Sam, is it you? How you startled 
me, I thought it was cowboys! (l.) 

Sam. Cato’s come back. Cato’s come back. 
Here, you damn little nigger, tell Miss Elizabeth 
Cato’s come back, (laughs.) 

Molly. ( shakes him) What d’you sa\, Sam, 
what d’you say? 

Sam. It’s Cato! 

Molly. What! ( runs to Cuff r. c. boxes his 

ears, and pulls him up c.) Don’t stand idling there, 
you little monkey. Go and put up the horse. 

(Cuff and Sam go up c. Sam opens door r. Cuff 
opens door l. by pulling bolt.) 

You too, Sam. I’ll go and tell Miss Elizabeth. 
(she crosses l.) 

(Cuff opening door, discloses Peyton clinging to 

Cato's neck .*) 

Cuff. Dere’s a soldier on his back. 

Molly. Oh, you’re full of soldiers, (taking a 
step forward) Why, so there is. Sam, come here! 

Sam. (r. c.) He’s wounded. Cato came gallop¬ 
ing back with him clinging to his neck. He’s fainted, 
I specs. 

Molly. Or dead. Go and help the poor soldier 
in, you Sam. 

(Exit Sam c.) 

Molly. Go on, Cuff, don’t you see he’s injured? 

* Where it is not possible to bring on the horse, the char¬ 
acters go to the opening and look off it. as if the animal had 
stopped before reaching the door. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


31 


he can’t hurt yon. ( pushes Cuff out) Bring him 
in. I’ll tell Miss Elizabeth. ( runs across to supper 
room, opens door, speaks off l. i. e.) Miss Elizabeth, 
Cato’s come back ! Cato’s come back! 

(Enter Edwards, l. i. e. Sam and Edwards help 
Peyton from his horse, and bring him in. Cuff 
holds horse.) 

Elizabeth. ( outside) Cato! 

Molly. Yes, Miss Elizabeth. He’s come back 
and that Captain’s on his back. He’s wounded, 
fainted, they’re bringing him in. ( cross R. C.) 

Elizabeth, (coming in from room l. i. e.) 
Hay, Mr. Valentine, stay where you are. Aunt 
Sarah, pray remain at table. I’ll rejoin you in a 
minute, (closing door firmly, stands in the door - 
way, watching the scene.) 

Peyton. Don’t mind me ! Get on! Mount, you 
fool! Mount, I say. Carrington—charge! 

(Sam and Edwards bring him down. lie staggers 
with Molly’s directing hand to chair c. his right 
boot is cut through. Edwards closes doors.) 

(Seated) Thanks, girl, thanks. Damn the man’s 
sword! Give me some water. 

(Molly goes off l. u. e.) 

What has happened ? I got home on the right, Lord ! 
I can see him grin, his breast bone cracked against 
my hilt, (rises, turns giddy) By God, they’ve hit 
me on the head, (sinks into seat.) 

(Molly re-enters with water. Sam tries to pull off 
boot from wounded right leg.) 

Steady, there’s blood on that boot. Where’s the 


32 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


troop? (half rises) Carrington! Carrington, I 
say! ( pauses, he falls back.) 

(Molly takes mug to him, lifts his head, puts it to 

his lips.) 

Eh, what? Oh yes, water. ( drinks, looks over 
tumbler, sees Elizabeth) Here’s my respects, 
madam. 

(Others notice Elizabeth, they fall back from 

Peyton.) 

Elizabeth. So it is indeed the man who stole 
my horse. 

Peyton. Pardon, I think your horse has stolen 
me! He has made me an intruder against my will, 
I assure you. 

Elizabeth. You will doubtless not honor us by 
remaining. 

Peyton, (rises, sinks back) What can I do? I 
can neither ride nor walk. 

Elizabeth. But your men will probably come 
for you. 

Peyton. I don’t think so. The field was in 
smoke and darkness. My troops must have pursued 
the enemy, ’tis not likely any saw your horse carry 
me away. They will think me killed or made pris¬ 
oner; if they return this way, however, I can have 
them stop and take me along. 

Elizabeth. Then you expect that in repayment 
of your treatment of me awhile ago— 

Peyton. Madam, you should allow for the cus¬ 
tom of war, yet if you wish to turn me out— 

Elizabeth. It’s true then, that if you fell into 
the hands of the British they would hang you ? 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 33 

Peyton. Doubtless, madam, but you shouldn’t 
blame me for what they would do! How did you 
know ? 

Elizabeth. Sam, Edwards, help this gentleman 
into the East Parlour. Molly, fetch some linen, 
shears, water—Edwards must dress his wound. 

(Molly goes off l. u. e.) 

Peyton, (rises, assisted by Sam) Ah, Madam, 
then you make me your guest ? 

(Sam releases his support of Peyton.) 
Elizabeth. My guest, you insolent rebel. Ho, 
my prisoner. I intend to hand you over to the 
British. 

(The servants shrink back — pause.) 

Peyton. You will not—do that! 

Elizabeth. Wait and see! (going up to door.) 

(Trumpet off R. pp. pause. Horses heard in the 

distance.) 

Peyton. Ah, my men returning, (totters to 
staircase.) 

(Elizabeth bolts door, stands with her back against 

it.) 

Don’t lock the door—they are my men. Call them! 

(Trumpet p.) 

They’ll pass without knowing I’m here. Call them, 
you black devils! 

(Trumpet F.) 

Call them, I say! Quick, they’ll be out of hearing. 




31 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(Trumpet p.) 

(Making another effort to move, hut can only clutch 
newel) My God, they’re gone by! They’ll return 
to our lines leaving me behind. Carrington! Car¬ 
rington ! Help ! I am here—in the Manor House— 
a prisoner! 

(Trumpet pp.) 

(Dead pause. The sound of horses dies away. Pey¬ 
ton swoons, falls forward, and lies at the foot of 
the staircase. Elizabeth runs down c. then pulls 
herself up short and stays c.) 


CURTAIN. 












MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER 
ACT II. 





v 












MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


25 


r ACT II. 

Scene: —The East parlour. A large, lofty and well- 
furnished room of the period. Door r. i. e. Two 
windows above it r. c. and it. u. e. Door l. u. e. 
Fireplace l. c. Cupboard below it l. i. e. At the 
back two windows, bracket clock between them. 
Spinet and stool up R. c. Table and chairs c. 
sofa down l. c. and high backed chair by fire¬ 
place right down L. All the furniture is shrouded 
in holland and dust-cloths. The four windows are 
recessed, shuttered and curtained. The one in 
back flats to l. has practicable shutters. 

(Peyton discovered on sofa l. c. IIis left leg is 
bandaged, a cut stocking like a sock of a different 
colour to the right leg is on his left foot, pulled over 
the lower part of bandage. Edwards l. put¬ 
ting slipper on left foot. Cuff kneeling by with 
basin etc. R. c. On the table are Peyton’s sword, 
hat, his boots by sofa l.) 

(At rise of curtain, clock chimes half hour.) 

Peyton. Ah, you should make a good surgeon, 
you tie so damnably tight a bandage. 

Edwards. (putting on slipper) I’ve bound up 
many a wound, sir, and some far worse than yours; 


36 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


’tis not a dangerous cut, the boot saved your leg, 
though ’twill be irksome while it lasts. You won’t 
walk for a day or two. 

Peyton. It’s remarkable that your mistress 
should have so much trouble taken with me, when 
she intends to hand me over to the British. 

(Cuff rises and puts basin on table c.) 

Edwards. Why, sir, we couldn’t have you bleed¬ 
ing over the floor and the furniture; besides she’d 
wish to hand you over in good condition. ( rises and 
picks up boot.) 

Peyton. I see, no bedraggled remnant of a man, 
but a complete clean and comfortable candidate for 
Cunningham’s gallows. “ La belle dame sans 
merci! ” 

Edwards. ( Picks up other boot) There’s no 
bell, sir. (crosses to table r. c. gives boot to Cuff, 
picks up hat, coat and vest) If you need any¬ 
one you are to call Cuff, he will be waiting out-, 
side the door, sir. There will be no use trying to 
get away, I doubt if you could walk half way across 
the room without fainting, and if you could get out 
of the house, you’d find me on guard with my duck- 
gun, and I don’t miss once in a hundred times with 
that duck-gun. 

(Cuff giggles.) 

Bring those things, Cuff. ( goes up stage, pointing 
to sword and basin.) 

Peyton. Leave my sword. 

Edwards. Can’t, sir. Miss Elizabeth’s orders 
were to take it away. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 37 

(Edwards and Cuff exeunt l. u. e.) 

Peyton. Miss Elizabeth’s orders! Queen Eliza¬ 
beth I should say in this house. Gad, to be a girl’s 
prisoner, tied down to her sofa by a scratch. 

(Molly enters r. i. e.) 

Molly. Your broth, sir. (curtesys) 

Peyton. Ha! so they would feed the animal for 
the slaughter, eh ? 

Molly. Please, sir, it wasn’t they sent this, I 
thought of it of my own accord, sir, though with 
Miss Elizabeth’s permission, sir. ( curtseys) 

Peyton. Oh, so Miss Elizabeth did give her per¬ 
mission then? 

Molly. Yes, sir, at least she said it didn’t matter 
if I wished to. 

Peyton. And you did wish to; well, thank you x 
Molly. 

(Molly curtseys. Peyton sips broth.) 

Molly. Thank you, sir. ( gets stool from behind 
sofa, places it at head of sofa l. c.) You can set 
the bowl on this, sir, I must be going now, sir. (go¬ 
ing down r.) 

Peyton. Molly, where’s your mistress ? 

Molly. In the West Parlor, eating supper. 

Peyton. And Mr. Colden, whom I saw in the 
hall about an hour ago? 

Molly. Major Colden rode back to New York. 

Peyton. Major Colden! Major of what? 

Molly. 1st New Jersey Volunteers, sir. 

Peyton. What!—Then he did join the King’s 
service after all. I’ll never take a Tory’s word again 







38 


MISS ELIZABETH'S PRISONER. 


as long as I live. Molly, stay; it is possible we shall 
never meet again; grant me one last request. 

Molly. ( crossing r.) Lor’, sir! 

Peyton. Do not hesitate, I beg. 

Molly. ( crossing l. c.) Whatever is it, sir? 
Peyton. ( indicating cushion at left end of set - 
tee) Place that cushion under my head. 

(She does so.) 

I thank you. 

Molly. You’re kindly welcome, sir. 

Peyton. Farewell, fair Molly! 

(Enter Valentine with pipe and hot toddy l. u. e.) 

My broth is getting cold. 

(Molly curtseys and exit r. i. e.) 

Valentine. Then you’ve no cause to waste your 
breath. ( comes down between sofa and fireplace.) 

Peyton. Nay, sir, I need to husband it, the sup¬ 
ply is running short; even now is Miss Elizabeth’s 
fair white hand on the vent peg. Your very good 
health, sir. 

Valentine. Thank you, sir. 

Peyton. What, will you not drink mine? 
Valentine. ’Twould be waste of words to drink 
the health of a man that’s going to be hanged. 
Peyton. The devil! you are economical. 
Valentine. Of words, maybe, not of liquor. 
(clinics his glass to bowl, drinks, goes to fireplace) 
My pipe does not annoy ye, sir? 

Peyton. I love the idle weed—in others, (leans 
back) 

» Valentine. Ah! 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


39 


(Pause —Valentine removes wig, lays it on mantel¬ 
shelf, wipes bald head, sits in armchair l., puffs.) 

They say hanging is an easy death. I never saw but 
one man hanged; he didn’t seem to enjoy it. 

Peyton. Oh, didn’t he? 

Valentine. No, he took it most unpleasant like. 

Peyton, (half rising) Did you come here to 
cheer me up in my last hours? 

Valentine. No, I came in here for a smoke 
while the ladies stayed at the table. 

Peyton. Oh ! ( leans bach and stares at ceiling.) 

Valentine. I don’t know how hanging will go 
with you; Cunningham will do the work; they say 
he makes it as disagreeable as may be. 

Peyton. Indeed! (pause.) 

Valentine. I’d come and see you hanged, but 
I’m afraid it won’t be possible. 

Peyton. Then I suppose I shall have to excuse 
you. 

Valentine. Yes, we’re killing a fine fat pig at 
Valentine’s Hill this week. I doubt I can’t spare 
the time, (yawns.) 

Peyton. Say no more, my dear sir, say no more, 
some future day, perhaps. 

Valentine. Some take it easier than others; 
(yawns) it’s hard with young men like you; it 
must be disagreeable to have a rope tightened round 
your neck; I don’t know—perhaps—I don’t know. 
(sleeps.) 

Peyton. What a cheerful companion for a man 
in my situation. I was beginning to forget it. Sleep 
well, my gay remembrancer, sleep well— 


40 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(Valentine snores.) 

but if you love me, don’t do that. ( covering him¬ 
self with rug) I wonder if this resolute Miss Eliza¬ 
beth will keep her word. I shouldn’t care to bet 
about it, not even in Continental bills. Pity the old 
gentleman’s gone to sleep, he might have given me 
the odds; not that I want the money—there’s a lot 
lying about the hall—but it would be nice to taste 
that pig. Plenty of crackling and prune sauce— 
delicious—no—no gravy, I thank you—well, just 
a little then—thanks—I am very comfortable. 
(sleepily) Dear little Molly—if it were not for this 
sciatch on the leg and—Miss Elizabeth, a man might 
do worse on a night like this than make his quar¬ 
ters here. I wish Molly had tucked me up. 

(Pause — Valentine snores.) 

Damn that pig—eh! (opens his eyes and looks at 
Valentine) Oh! it’s you, my gay remembrancer; 
wait a moment, old gentleman, in your land of Nod, 
I’m coming with you. (sleeps.) 

(Enter from l. u. e. Elizabeth and Aunt Sarah.) 

Elizabeth. Mr. Valentine—asleep! 

Sarah, (looking at Peyton) How handsome! 

Elizabeth, (crosses to table c.) Which one, 
Auntie ? 

Sarah. La! Elizabeth ! (going c.) 

Elizabeth. I am glad I decided not to keep him 
here till one of our patrols passed this way. (crosses 
R. c.) Black Sam will be at the watch-house by now, 
he should be back with the soldiers in half an hour. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


41 


(Peyton turns head over sofa-back and looks at 

clock c.) 

Sarah. (standing c. above table, to Elizabeth 
who is r. c.) Will the troops at King’s Bridge heed 
a black man? 

Elizabeth. They will heed my written message; 
most of the officers know me, and those at King’s 
Bridge are aware that I came here to-day. ( sits on 
spinet stool r. c.) 

Sarah. (crosses to settee and looks at Peyton) 
It does seem a pity, such a gallant gentleman: such 
a gallant soldier. ( tucking him up in front of set¬ 
tee.) 

Elizabeth. Gentleman ! The fellow is neither 
a gentleman nor a gallant soldier. Does a gentleman 
or gallant soldier desert the army of his King to join 
that of the King’s enemies? 

Peyton. ( without moving ) A gallant soldier 

has a right to choose his side. 

(At sound of voice Sarah starts and goes up l.) 

And a gentleman need not fight against his country. 

Elizabeth, (r. c.) A gallant soldier having 
once chosen his side, will be loyal to it, and a gentle¬ 
man never yet bore the odious name of deserter. 

Peyton. A gentleman can afford to bear any 
name that is redeemed by a glorious cause and an 
extraordinary danger, (sitting up) I gave in my 
resignation. 

Elizabeth. But did not wait for its acceptance. 

Peyton. Ah! I was a little hasty! (leans back 
again.) 

Elizabeth, (rises and crosses to back of table 






42 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


C.) Your enemies hold such acts as yours in detesta¬ 
tion. 

Peyton. I am not serving in this war for their 
approbation. 

(Enter Molly r. i. e.) 

Elizabeth. What is it now, Molly? 

Molly. I’ve come for the bowl, if you please, 
ma’am. ( curtseys) 

Elizabeth. Very well, play the good Samaritan 
if you like, child. Come, Auntie, we’ll be in better 
company elsewhere. 

(Exit l. u. e.) 

Sarah, (back of settee) Oh, Molly, to think so 
sweet a young gentleman should be so completely 
wasted. 

(Exit l. u. e.) 

(Molly comes down to Peyton.) 

Peyton. Eh, what, Molly, oh! the bowl. 
(finishes last drop.) 

Molly. I hope you liked the broth, sir. (curt¬ 
seys. Places bowl on tray on table, picks up stool 
and places it behind settee.) 

Peyton. Delicious, Molly! My broth drinking 
days will soon be over. 

Mollyl I’m—very sorry, sir. (comes to head of 
sofa and arranges pillows.) 

Peyton. So am I. (sits upright) To close my 
eyes on this tine world. Never again to ride to 
•hounds, or sing or laugh, or play, (chucks Molly) 
or chuck a pretty girl under the chin. Never again 
to lead a charge against the enemies of our liberty; 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


43 


not to live to see the States take their place among 
the Free Nations of the world. By Heaven, Molly, 
I don’t want to die yet. 

Molly. ( comes round to head of sofa) Will it 
really come to that, sir ? 

Peyton. As surely as I fall into British hands. 

Molly. Oh, sir! ( comes down c.) 

Peyton. And your mistress expects a troop of 
British soldiers here in half an hour to take me. 
Damn it! if I could only walk. ( pause—he sighs.) 

Molly. You couldn’t get away from the house, 
sir; Uncle is watching outside. (goes r. c.) 

Peyton. I’d take my chance of that duck-gun 
if I could only run. I wonder—could Edwards be 
bribed to spirit me away! 

Molly. Oh no, sir! Uncle would die before he’d 
disobey Miss Elizabeth; so would we all. ( crosses 
R. i. e.) I’m very sorry indeed, sir. 

(Exit r. i. e.) 

(Peyton looks at clock, pulls himself by back of 

sofa, tries to stand, groans, falls back on sofa — 

Valentine snores.) 

Peyton. ( savagely ) Don’t do that! (kicks at 
him with sound leg.) 

Valentine. ( wakes with a start) Eh, what! 
Still here, eh? I dreamt you were being hanged to 
the fireplace. I was quite upset over it. 

Peyton. Then why don’t you help me out of 
this ? 

Valentine. ’Taint possible, ’twould only anger 
Miss Elizabeth, (rises) I should lose my farm. 
(takes up wig) And I warrant Miss Sally would be 







44 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


setting her cap at some other fellow, (puts on wig, 
looks at himself in glass over mantelpiece) Ugh! 
’Tain’t for me to take sides, no, no, it ain’t possible. 

Peyton. If it were, would you? 

Valentine. Why yes—if I could without lend¬ 
ing aid to the King’s enemies, but you see I couldn’t. 
(crossing R.) I won’t lend aid to neither side’s 
enemies; I don’t want to die before my time, (going 
to spinet up R.) 

Peyton. Is there no one I can turn to? 

Valentine. There’s no one within hearing 
would dare to go against Miss Elizabeth. 

Peyton. Miss Elizabeth evidently rules with a 
firm hand. 

(Valentine chuckles and lights his pipe at spinet 

candelabra R. c.) 

The degradation of it all, I—to be hanged for a 
girl’s caprice, a wanton whim of the moment; she’ll 
change her mind to-morrow, most like, when I am 
rotting. By the Lord Harry! if I could only make 
her change her mind to-night! 

Valentine, (sitting r. c.) You couldn’t, no 
one could, and as for a rebel soldier— 

Peyton. She has a heart of iron—the cruelty of 
a savage, the— 

Valentine. Oh, you mustn’t abuse Miss Eliza¬ 
beth, ’tain’t cruelty, it’s only proper pride, and she 
ain’t hard, she has the kindest heart to those she’s 
fond of. 

Peyton, (bitterly) To those she’s fond of! 

Valentine. Yes, her people, her horses, her 
dogs, and even her servants and slaves. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


45 


Peyton. Tender creature who has a heart for 
a dog and not for a man. 

Valentine. She’d have no less heart for a man 
if she loved him. 

Peyton. If she loved him? 

Valentine. Ay, don’t I know, ain’t I buried 
two, and please God’ll do so again, that I will, pretty 
dear. 

Peyton. Tell me, does she love any man—now? 

Valentine. I can’t say she love t s one, though— 

Peyton. By Heaven! I’ll try it; such miracles 
have happened and I’ve almost thirty minutes. 
{gets to chair l. of table.) 

Valentine. Miracles ! Bain’t any these days. 

Peyton. I will try it, there’s one chance, and 
you can help me. {gets to end of table.) 

Valentine, {rising) The devil I can! I won’t 
lend aid, I tell you. 

Peyton. It won’t be lending aid, all I beg is that 
you ask Miss Elizabeth to see me alone at once. 
{gets from table and clvtches Valentine) Don’t 
stand staring, man! Look at the clock; don’t you 
know, thirty minutes—nay, barely twenty—for God’s 
sake go and ask her to come, {swings round R. c. 
and sinks on to spinet stool.) 

Valentine, (c.) But she mayn’t come here for 
the asking. 

Peyton. She must come here, induce her, beg 
her, entice her, tell her—I have a last request to 
make of my jailor. 

(Valentine is going l.) 

No, no, that won’t do, of course it won’t. Excite her 
curiosity, tell her—I have a confession to make, a 






46 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


plot to disclose—anything—in Heaven’s name, go 
and send her here. 

(As he speaks Valentine hacks up stage to l.) 

Valentine. I’ll try, sir, but I ain’t got much 
hope. ( turns and chuckles ) I doubt I’m getting 
past wheedling the women. 

( Laughs cunningly and is shoo’d off by Peyton 

l. u E.) 

Peyton. ( sinks into chair r.) Twenty minutes 
to make a woman love me! A proud woman, vain, 
wilful, revengeful. A woman who hates our cause 
and detests me. To make her love me! How shall 
I begin? Keep your wits now, Harry, my boy, ’tis 
for your life? How to begin—why does she not 
come? Damn the clock, how loud it ticks—will she 
never come—and the time is going— 

(Elizabeth enters and stands in doorway l. u. e.) 

Elizabeth. Well, sir, what is it? 

Peyton. ( half rising) I—I thank you for com¬ 
ing, Madam, I had—that is— a request to make. 

Elizabeth. Mr. Valentine said a confession. 

Peyton. Why, yes, a confession. 

Elizabeth. A plot to disclose. ( coming for¬ 
ward) What is it? 

Peyton. You shall hear — I—ah, it is this — I 
wish to write a letter—a last letter to a friend. 

Elizabeth. Write it; there are pens and ink. 

Peyton. But I cannot write in this position, I 
fear I cannot even hold a pen; will you not write it 
for me? 

Elizabeth. I! secretary to a horse-thieving 
rebel! 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


47 


Peyton. It is a last request, Madam; a last re¬ 
quest is sacred, even that of an enemy. 

Elizabeth. (turning to go) I will send in 
someone to write for you. 

Peyton. But this letter will contain secrets. 

Elizabeth, (stops) Secrets! 

Peyton. Ay, secrets not for every ear; secrets 
of the heart, Madam, secrets so delicate, that to con¬ 
vey them truly I need the aid of more than common 
tact and understanding. 

Elizabeth, (turns back l. c.) But the plot—the 
confession ? 

Peyton. Why, Madam, do yon think I may com¬ 
municate them to you directly? The letter shall re¬ 
late them, too, and if the person who holds the pen 
for me, pays heed to the letter’s contents, is it my 
fault ? 

Elizabeth. I understand, (sits at table l. c.) 

Peyton. The letter is to Mr. Bryan Fairfax. 

Elizabeth. What, kinsman to my Lord Fairfax 
of Virginia ? 

Peyton. There’s but one Mr. Bryan Fairfax, and 
though he’s on the side of King George in feeling, 
yet he’s my friend, a circumstance that should con¬ 
vince even you that I’m not scum of the earth, rebel 
though you call me; he’s the friend of Washington 
too. 

Elizabeth. Pah! who is your Washington? My 
Aunt Mary rejected him and married his rival in this 
very room. 

Peyton. And a good thing Washington did not 
marry her. 

Elizabeth. Sir! (rises.) 







48 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Peyton. She'd have tried to turn him Tory, and 
the ladies of your family are not to be resisted. 
Elizabeth. ( sits l. c.) Go on with your letter. 
Peyton. ( sits facing audience r. c.) Mr. Bryan 
Fairfax, Towlston Hall,— ( spelling) T-O-W-L-S- 
T-O-N. Fairfax County, Virginia. 

(Clock strikes the quarter, Peyton starts and listens 
intently, then with a gasp dictates very rapidly) 

Peyton. “ My dear Fairfax, if ever this reaches 
you Twill be from out a captivity destined probably 
soon to end—” 

(Elizabeth raps on the table.) 

Elizabeth. That’s too fast! That’s too fast! 
Peyton, (with relief) I hoped it was! 
Elizabeth. Sir! 

Peyton. Eh? Where was I, Madam? 
Elizabeth. “ Soon to end.” 

Peyton. Oh, yes! “ Soon to end in that which 

all dread, yet to which all must come; a captivity 
nevertheless sweetened by the divinest presence that 
ever bore the name of woman.” 

(Elizabeth stops writing, drops pen; she stares at 
him in speechless astonishment) 

(he does not look at her) “ ’Twere worth even death 
to be for a short time the prisoner of so superb—” 
Elizabeth, (rising) Sir! What are you saying? 
Peyton, (humbly) My thoughts, Madam. 
Elizabeth. How dare you jest with me? 

Peyton. Jest! Does a man jest in face of his 
own death? 


49 


Miss Elizabeth’s prisoner. 

Elizabeth. ? Twas a jest to bid me write such 
lies. 

Peyton - . Lies—( rising) Tore Gad, the mirror 
3 r onder— [points to mantel) —will not call them lies. 
If there is lying ’tis my eyes that lie, Tis only what 
they tell me that my lips report. 

Elizabeth. What has such rubbish to do with 
your confession and your plot. 

Peyton. Can you not see, my confession is of the 
yielding of my heart to the charms of a goddess. 
(rests wounded leg on chair and stands on the other, 
resting over chair-bach: r. of table c.) 

Elizabeth. Who desired your heart to yield to 
anything ? 

Peyton. Beauty demanded it, Madam. (bowing 
over chair-bach.) 

Elizabeth. So then there was no plot? 

Peyton. A plot, yes, my plot to attract you 
hither, that I might console myself for my fate by 
the joy of seeing you. 

Elizabeth. The joy of seeing me ! ( goes down 

L.) 

Peyton. Ay, joy, joy, none the less that you are 
disdainful; pride is an attribute of Queens and ten¬ 
derness is not the only mood in which a woman may 
conquer. Heavens! you who can so discomfit a man 
with your frown, what might you not do with your 
smile ? 

Elizabeth. I do not know what I have done 
with my frown, nor what I might do with my smile, 
but whatever it be, you are not like to see it, sir. 
(crosses R.) 

Peyton. (following on chair) That I know and 





50 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


am consoled when I consider that no other man has 
been more fortunate. 

Elizabeth. ( turning by door R.) How do you ' 
know that? 

Peyton. Your smile is not for any common man, 
and I’ll wager your heart is as whole as your beauty. 

Elizabeth. I cannot conceive why you should say 
all this. 

Peyton. ’Tis an easing to the tortured heart to 
reveal itself. I go the calmer to my doom for hav¬ 
ing at least given outlet to the flame kindled within 
me. My doom! yes, and none so unwelcome either, 
if by it I escape a lifetime of vain longing. 

Elizabeth, {works round spinet from r. up to 
c.) Your language is incomprehensible, sir, but I 
forget, you have been injured to-night, if you are 
serious it must be that some chance blow has turned 
your head. 

Peyton. My head is turned, doubtless, Madam, 
but by you! 

Elizabeth. I am sure the act was not intentional 
with me, I’d best leave you, lest you grow worse. 
{she moves towards door l. u. e.) 

Peyton. But you must not go— {leaves chair ) — 
hear me, I beg— {leans on table) —only ten left. 

Elizabeth. Ten! 

Peyton. I mean ten minutes ere your troops 
may come for me, only ten short minutes before I 
leave your house for ever; do not let me be deprived 
of the sight of you for these last few minutes, 'tis 
so short a time, yet ’tis all my life. 

Elizabeth. The man is mad, I think, {comes 
near sofa down l. c.) 



MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


51 


Peyton. ( Goes to chair l. c.) Mad, yes, some do 
call it madness, the love that’s born of a glance and 
lasts till death. 

Elizabeth. Love! ’Tis impossible you should 
come to love me in so short a time. 

Peyton. ( leaning over table c.) ’Tis born of a 
glance, I tell you. What is it if not love that makes 
me forget my coming death? Why do I not spend 
this time, these last moments in pleading for my 
life, in begging you to hide me; to send the troops 
away without me when they come ? Because my 
passion blinds me to my fate, because every one of 
these moments I would use in pouring out my heart 
to you; until it ceases to beat it is beating for you— 
the last sands of my life I am giving to you, the life 
I have left me is dying for you. 

Elizabeth. I—I must go. ( going up) 

Peyton. Nay—do not go. 

Elizabeth. You are a rebel against your King. 

Peyton. You are giving King George his revenge 
to-night! Ah ! how can you leave me now ? 

Elizabeth. You deserted your first colors. 

Peyton, (l. of table c.) You hang me for it, 
else would I wear yours. How can you leave me 
now ? 

Elizabeth. You took my horse. 

Peyton. ( crosses to r. end of settee l.) He 
rattles his hoofs on yonder road in search of the 
noose for my neck! How can you leave me now. 

Elizabeth. Ah ! why did you desert ? ( sinks on 

to couch l. c.) 

Peyton. ( standing r. of couch l.) Because I 
could not die. I took service to fight the King’s ene- 


52 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


mies, could I dream I should have to fight my 
friends? I came out to quell a lawless mob, I found 
my country, my own Virginian kith and kin arrayed 
against me. I made up my mind to resign—I wrote 
my resignation—the ink w r as scarcely dry ere I had 
to follow my regiment into action. What could I 
do, in honor? I could but determine that that day 
I would draw no sword, fire no shot, I would do the 
bare duty for which I was paid; I would die with my 
men, but no man should die through me. Do you 
know the history of that assault? Three times we 
charged the Charlestown redoubt, twice were we 
hurled down the hill, great gaps were cut in our 
scarlet lines, officers and men went down in twos and 
threes and rows, and yet I could not die! I was a 
derelict tossed rudderless on this scarlet sea, and as 
the bodies of our dead checked the onward rush, men 
spouted up like breakers against the sky line and 
crashed in fragments at our feet, others foundered 
by my side, and sank choking in the vortex of that 
thirsting Hell, and yet I could not die! Then sud¬ 
denly God gave me breathing space—I was in the 
redoubt. The King had won. I planted his colors in 
the blood-softened turf. Then— 

Elizabeth. (very quickly) And then— 

Peyton. Then! I tore off my coat and bade my 
sergeant take it with my resignation to the Colonel. 
I was no longer one of the victors. I, too, was a 
rebel, beaten, vanquished, underfoot, in full retreat, 
I laughed as I ran, my mind was at ease again, I was 
on the right side at last! 

Elizabeth. The right side? (rise). 

Peyton. Ay, Madam, where my heart lay. Pic- 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


53 


ture it yourself. On the one side, father, mother, 
brothers, sisters, arrayed against you, standing with 
their backs to the wall, ready to die for a principle— 
digging their nameless grave in the sacred cause of 
freedom. On the other side, what? A trained band 
of honorable troops inspired by their love of country, 
their duty, their King, the glory of conquest, and 
between these hard breathing peoples, a free born 
American whose very face shone bloodless in con¬ 
trast with his British scarlet coat. The right side, 
Madam, ay, for me and mine the only side. 

Elizabeth, (half rising) I—I cannot argue 

with you—I—can only leave you. 

Peyton. (staying her and sitting by her side) 
Nay, do not leave me; denounce me, Madam, but do 
not go from me, call me rebel, deserter, horse thief, 
what you will, but remain with me—and—forgive 
me, I can worship you no less. 

(He inclines forward very near her. She puts her 
hand out to repel him in wonder. He takes her 
hand and kisses it, the spell is broken; she draws it 
quickly from him) 

Elizabeth, (rising) How dare you touch my 
hand? 

Peyton. A poor wretch who loves and is so soon 
to die, dares much! 

Elizabeth. You seem resigned to dying. 

Peyton. Have I not said it is better than living 
with a hopeless longing. 

Elizabeth, (crossing R. c.) And yet death, 
that kind of death— 

Peyton. Ah, tis not in consigning me to the ene- 







54 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


emy, that you have your revenge on me, I receive a 
greater hurt from your beauty than from the British 
Provost Marshal. 

Elizabeth. If you are so strong a man that you 
can endure the one hurt so calmly, why are you not 
a little stronger—strong enough to ignore this other 
hurt—this love-wound, as you call it. ( face away 
from him.) 

Peyton. ( rising) By heavens, I will! ’Tis a 
weakness as you imply, I will close my heart, van¬ 
quish my feelings. I defy your beauty, your proud 
face, your scornful eyes. I shall die free of your 
image. Go where you will, Madam. 

Elizabeth. ( turns R.) Sir! 

Peyton. ( crosses to table c.) It shall be no 
puling lover that the British hang. A snap of the 
finger for your all-conquering charms—Why do you 
not leave me ? 

Elizabeth. What! Do you order me from my 
own parlor? 

Peyton. Go or stay, ’tis nothing to me. 

(Hoofs off l. softly at first, increasing till near.) 

Elizabeth. ( comes up r. of table) You rebel, 
you speak like that to me? 

Peyton. Ah, Madam, I will take your advice— 
isn’t that—do you hear ? 

Elizabeth. Horses? Yes, on the road from 
King’s Bridge. ( goes to left window, undoes the 
shutter, looks out) A troop of redcoats and Sam is 
with them. ( closing the shutters and coming down 
l. c.) Go or stay, ’tis nothing to you, you said, 
your last insult, Sir Rebel Captain—( sweeps past 
him to R.) 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


55 


Peyton. You must not go, you must not go! 

(4s she passes he snatches a handkerchief from her 
waistband, drops it on the floor.) 

Pardon me, your kerchief, you’ve dropped it, don’t 
you see? 

(Elizabeth turns and sees it on the floor. Peyton 
stoops, picks up handkerchief, groans with pain, 
kisses it, hands it to Elizabeth, staggers to spinet 
in agony ) 

• Elizabeth. Ah! your wound ( tenderly ) you 
should not have stooped. ( goes to him, lays hand on 
his shoulder ) You should not have stooped. 

Peyton. No matter! I haven’t a second! 
gasps) My cravat—I am choking—would you— 
may I beg—loosen it. 

(Hoofs stop) 

(Elizabeth does so and meets his gaze, as he sinks 
on one knee, the clock strikes seven.) 

Yes, ’tis time—I love you, yes, let the troops in. 

(Sinks on the floor) 

Colden. (outside) Halt! Guard the windows 
in the rear, you four. 

Peyton. Colden’s voice. 

Elizabeth, (startled) Hush! (crosses to r. c. 
He must have been still at King’s Bridge when Sam 
arrived. 

Peyton. A close friend! 

Elizabeth. He is my affianced husband! 
Peyton. Oh, Lord! (collapses on floor and 
Elizabeth pulls covering off spinet so as to touch 


56 MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 

ground to cover him, and leans against the end of 
spinet as Major Colden, six Queen’s Rangers 
and Edward^ rush in.) 

Colden. (outside) Where is your mistress, Ed¬ 
wards—in the East Parlour? 

(Enter Colden.) 

Where is the rebel, Elizabeth? 

Elizabeth. ( excitedly—half laughing) You are 
too late, Jack, the prisoner has escaped. Look for 
him on the road to Tarrytown—and be quick about 
it—you’ll miss him, you’ll lose him! Don’t you un¬ 
derstand—there’s no time to lose, ’twas the rebel 
Peyton, he’s afoot. 

Colden. The road to Tarrytown, you say? 
Elizabeth. Yes, to Tarrytown—why do you 
wait ? 

Colden. To the road again, men ! Are you sure ? 
Elizabeth. Yes ! yes ! yes ! 

Colden. Till we meet, Elizabeth! 

(They rush off.) 

(Edwards shuts the door. Peyton rises and leans 

on spinet.) 

Elizabeth. (going up stage r. c.) Edwards, this 
gentleman will occupy the South West Chamber. 
(Returns to Peyton, looks at him, drops her eyes) it 
is the room your General Washington had when lie 
was my father’s guest. 

(She puts out her hand to him on the last word, he 
lends over it and kisses it as the Curtain falls.) 


CURTAIN. 


















MISS ELIZABETHS PRISON ER .ACTS I AND III 

Window with . Landscape Bucking ” ’ 

Shutters ‘-7 t- 


























MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER 


57 


r ACT III. 


Scenes. —The Hall as in Act I. A week later. 
Afternoon. Brilliantly lit with candles. Fire. 
Sunshine outside at first, changing to snow. Au¬ 
tumnal leaves and boughs in pots. Rugs on floor. 
Every evidence of occupation. Swords above chim¬ 
ney-piece. 


(As the Curtain rises Elizabeth is playing spinet 
l. c.) 


SONG. 


When roses blush in mossy smocks, 

And, laughing, scatter wide their dew, 

’Tis sweet to love the scent of youth 
To cull youth’s sweets in loving true. 

And yet the roses softly sigh 
For endless day in which to woo! 

Elizabeth. (after song) “ ’Tis stveet to love!” 

{Then Sarah enters l. i. e. she turns in the door¬ 
way and spealcs off) 

Sarah (l.) When you’ve finished your wine, 
Captain, you’ll find a much better fire out here. 

Valentine, {off l.) Thank ye, Miss Sally, 
thank ye! 



58 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(The door is closed) 

Sarah. Sure, Elizabeth, you need not have left 
the table so soon. (going c.) 

Elizabeth, (l. c.) What, Auntie, would you 
have me hinder your dear Mr. Valentine’s smoke? 
Once the last morsel passes his lips, I protest he sits 
on thorns till his pipe takes the place of it. 

Sarah, (c.) Mr. Valentine’s pipe, indeed! For 
my part, I would put up with the fumes for the sake 
of their company. ’Tis little we’ve »een of the dear 
young man. 

Elizabeth. Auntie ! “ Young man,” why, he is 
eighty if he’s a day. (sings) 

“ To-morrow will be St. Valentine’s day 
All in the morning betime! 

The dear young man so gallant and gay—(pause) 
I really can’t think of a rhyme.” 

(turns and faces her) Auntie! Not even the pro¬ 
verbial blindness of love can make that description 
fit dear old Mr. Valentine! 

Sarah, (c) I spoke of Captain Peyton, child, 

Elizabeth. ( 'playing) Oh, indeed! You do 
wear your rue with a difference. Poor Mr. Valen¬ 
tine ! 

Sarah. I am sure I may take an interest in the 
Captain without hurting Mr. Valentine’s feelings. 
(crosses, sits c.) ’Tis a week since he took to his 
bed, and this is the first day he has been able to join 
us at table. He leaves us, so he says, at dusk, and. 
though you know quite well you regard him with 
warmer feelings than you would have me believe, 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


59 


yet you are a scold to him as if he were a perfect 
stranger. 

Elizabeth. Really! 

Sarah. Really! Otherwise, why this change of 
front? A week ago you were all for hanging the 
gallant fellow and then ’twas all the other way. The 
choicest food, the oldest wine, the newest books have 
found their way to the Captain’s chamber; Sam to 
nurse him by night and Molly to tend him by day; 
Edwards to barber his head, with Cuff on a chair to 
powder it, and if that’s not enough, then Dinah the 
cook, must post to the Hill to fetch Mr. Valentine to 
sit with him. 

Elizabeth. (rises and stands l. c.) Ingratitude, 
thy name is Sally still! 

Sarah. I say to sit with him, and I verily believe 
that nothing prevented your turning sick nurse 
yourself hut the thought that in that case 1 should 
have been in attendance too. If it suits you to blow 
hot one day and cold the next— (rises) you might 
at least allow the gentleman to see that other ladies 
of the family are gifted with a more delicate sus¬ 
ceptibility. (crosses down r.) 

Elizabeth. Auntie, you are a silly little goose! 
You may flirt with Captain Peyton or Mr. Valentine 
as much as you please—oh! (sits at spinet) yes, and 
I’ll throw in Jack Colden too, with all my heart, so 
long as you do not prescribe the necessary conduct 
for me. If that is your delicate susceptibility, 
thank Heaven I’ll be indelicate after my own 
fashion. 

Sarah. (crossing to her) There, there, child, 
I’ve hurt you. Now, confess—is not the Captain 



GO 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


something more than a mere guest, a rebel prisoner, 
or hostage of war ? 

Elizabeth. He loves me. 

Sarah. Oh, and you? (leans on piano) Has he 
spoken ? 

Elizabeth. ( nods and plays—rising and crosses 
to fire-place ) Just enough to make me shun his 
speaking now. 

Sarah. Ah, I see. Why did you not confide in 
me before, child? The dear fellow, it’s quite a 
romance, (down l.) He shall have every oppor¬ 
tunity. I may have a too tender heart — and no wo¬ 
man can be too careful of her chances—but, thank 
goodness, I am no spoil-sport, (goes wp l c.) No 
child, I’ll sit all alone with Mr. Valentine by the fire 
in the parlor and leave you together. 

Elizabeth, (by fireplace ) If you dare to, 
Auntie, I’ll never speak to you again. Captain Pey¬ 
ton, in a moment of—great distress—intimated that 
he was not altogether—not altogether- 

Sarah. Yes? 

Elizabeth. Oh, have I no proper pride? If he 
wishes an opportunity to continue the conversation 
he will find it—make it for himself. Colden has my 
word—my father’s word. I’ll not go out of my way 
to break it—but oh, if he would but speak! 

Sarah, (r. c.) Colden! Good gracious, yes! 
’Tis a week since you come. Does he come for you 
to-day or to-morrow? 

Elizabeth, (goes up and gets hat, tying it on) 
I don’t know. 

Sarah, (r. c.) But he will meet Captain Pey¬ 
ton ! 






MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


61 


Elizabeth, (l. c.) It can be easily arranged to 
keep him from knowing Captain Peyton is here. I 
shall look to that. Come, Auntie, we will take the 
air before ’tis dark. Come, I’ll race you to the or¬ 
chard wall. ( crosses to r. turns back.) 

Sarah. What, child, as cold as ’tis! 

Elizabeth, (r.) Nonsense! The keen breeze 
will do us good; blow the megrims from our brains 
and the vapours from our hearts. ( goes up c.) We 
will throw the Peytons and the Coldens over the end 
of the terrace into the Ha-ha, and you will have a 
steadier hand to hold a light to Mr. \ r alentine ; 's pipe 
when you come back. 

(Sarah puts on a cloak, etc. Enter Molly with 

chocolate L. u. E.) 

Ah, Molly! Is that the chocolate? Set it by the 
tire. We shall be back soon. Tell the gentlemen, if 
they should ask, that we are taking the air. This 
way, Aunt! 

(Exit R. u. e.) 

Sarah. If they should wish to know, we are 
going as far as the orchard end. 

{Exit R. u. e.) 

(Molly places chocolate on small table below fire) 

Molly. {Valentine heard off l. “ Arter you, sir, 
arter you!” That’s old Bluebeard! 

(Peyton enters l. i. e.) 

Peyton. Where are the ladies, Molly? 

Molly. They are walking in the garden, sir. 
{going l. u. e.) 


62 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Peyton. ’Tis a chill air they take this evening. 
(goes to fire-place) 

(Molly exits l. u. e.) 

{Enter Valentine bringing on tray with punch, etc. 

L. I. E.) 

Valentine. Well, ladies, seeing ’tis Captain Pey¬ 
ton’s last night, I thought—( looks round) Not here, 
eh? Then we’ll say no more about it, but drink our 
punch at their fireside with all the permission in 
the world. ( sits chair c.) What’s this? Choco¬ 
late ! Can’t abide it. ’Tis no better than caudle 
cup. Give me ale—fat or thin, old or new, and a 
glass of punch with my nightcap, and thank the 
Lord, I’m a contented man. ( sits down and stirs 
glass) 

Peyton, {standing bach to fire) And a lady 
on either side of you ? 

Valentine. No, no, lad, one at a time’s my 
motto; a quiet life for me. I ought to know—I’ve 
buried two. {drinks) 

Peyton. You should be a contented man. 

Valentine. Not but what it’s dull these days at 
Valentine’s Hill. I shall miss the times we’ve had 
when you lay in the chamber above and listened to 
the old man who would be talking. 

Peyton. And smoking, Mr. Valentine. 

Valentine. Ay, and smoking. I reckon my 
treatment of you was as good as the pap food 
you got. If ’bacca’s good for a man when he’s 
well, stands to reason ’tis better for him when he’s 
sick. 

Peyton. It has that effect I’m told at first. But 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


63 


I, too, Mr. Valentine, shall miss our pleasant gossips 
overhead. 

Valentine. Ah, ’t would be only you and me, sir, 
we shall none of us like your going, and I warrant 
Miss Elizabeth’ll miss you most. 

Peyton. Miss Philipse ? 

Valentine. Ay, Miss Philipse, or Miss Eliza¬ 
beth—or Elizabeth. If I were as young as you, I’d 
make it Betsy afore I went. I know the signs. Sits 
mumchance afore you; blushes red as a ripe cran¬ 
berry, she do, and then all in a quiver stands white 
and drawn as a peeled willow wand under the moon. 

Peyton. You are a poet, sir. 

Valentine. Nay, that bain’t poetry—’tis human 
nature. 

Peyton. You are mistaken, Mr. Valentine. 

Valentine. Well, I’ve made mistakes afore now, 
’tis certain, but I ain’t ever been mistook in a young 
woman’s eye. Watch her eye, Cap’n Peyton. Why, 
sir, she has acted towards you as she ain’t ever acted 
towards any man, not even Major Golden. She’s 
shown you, as one might say, a meekness, sir, a kind 
of timidity. You have to he very careful when 
they’re timid. 

Peyton, (sits on table) Mr. Valentine, you are 
a wise old man, devoted to the family. I will tell you 
what occurred that night. With a dog’s death in 
front of me, I was base enough to play upon the 
feelings of the lady. I swore by all I held sacred I 
loved her, and driven half mad by the thought of 
the unutterable degradation that awaited me, I used 
such damnable artifice—such low cunning—that I 
convinced her, and saved my life—I did not love her 


64 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


then—but now—( rises and crosses l.) I have drawn 
sweet notes from her heart’s strings as wantonly as 
any rat might play havoc with the strings of this 
spinet; and the best and the worst of it is—the rat 
is musical and likes the tune. ( sits on spinet stool) 

Valentine. Then tell her so, lad, tell her so. 
Make a duet of it. 

Peyton. But Colden—she’s engaged to Colden ! 

Valentine. Colden ! Pooh ! Let him beat time 
to it. You tell her the whole truth, lad. 

Peyton. And if she doesn’t believe the truth? 

Valentine. Oh, she’ll believe it fast enough. If 
Miss Elizabeth don’t love you. she won’t mind the 
loss of you, she’ll fair abominate you and get it over 
at once. But if the young maid loves you—and I do 
believe she does— (rises) Why, Captain, she’ll sing 
“ Yankee Doodle ” to your whistling every day in the 
week. 

Peyton. ( rises and crosses to Valentine) Yes, 
you’re right, (shakes hands) I’ll get it over now. 
I’ll just go and fetch my things and join her in the 
garden, (going up the stairs) Then if the worst 
happens I can be off to my lines at once. Mr. Val¬ 
entine, a last kindness, get the Aunt out of the way. 

(Goes up staircase and off l. u. e.) 

Valentine. Willingly, Captain, wdllingly! 
(crossing to fireplace) She may be number three 
yet. 

(Enter Sarai-i, followed by Elizabeth, who carries 

foliage l. u. e.) 

Sarah. Well, I’m glad to come in out of the cold. 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


65 


I protest I have the shivers all down my back. Mr. 
Valentine—but where’s Captain Peyton? Have you 
deserted him too? 

Valentine. No, Mistress Sally, he’s gone to get 
ready to go. 

Sarah. What now? 

Elizabeth. ’Twill soon be dusk, Auntie, (by 
spinet l.) 

Sarah. (Crossing down l.) Oh, but he must 
have something put up for his ride—some cordial— 
food—who knows, poor dear, where his next meal 
may come from? 

Elizabeth, (comes down l. c.) Don’t run away, 
Auntie, Edwards will— 

Sarah. Edwards! Bread an inch thick, I’ll be 
bound! No ! This time I’ll see to his comforts my¬ 
self. 

(Exits L. I. E.) 

Elizabeth. Oh, Auntie ! Auntie ! What an in¬ 
terest she takes in you men. (comes to table c.) 

Valentine. She ain’t the only one, eh, Miss 
Elizabeth ? 

(Movement by Elizabeth.) 

Ah, I know the signs. 

Elizabeth. Mr. Valentine! 

Valentine, (crosses to her) Oh, you mustn’t 
mind me, Miss Elizabeth; I’m experienced, I am. 
Besides, Ties took it as bad himself. 

Elizabeth. Took it! 

Valentine. Yes, loves you to distraction, he do, 

Elizabeth, (crosses down c.) He told you? 
Oh, you horrid old man. (flutters foliage in his face 


6S MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 

and going over to cabinet R.) So you’ve been dis¬ 
cussing me, have you? 

Valentine. No, no, no, not discussing, only 
touching upon it. 

Elizabeth. Indeed! ( arranging foliage in vase 

by cabinet R.) 

Valentine. Yes, ’tis most extraordinary case, 
ain’t it? First he pretends and you like it, then 
he doesn't pretend and he likes it. 

Elizabeth. Pretend! What are you saying? 
(moving to him R. c.) 

Valentine. Oh, he’s told me all about it. 

Elizabeth. About what ? 

Valentine, (c.) About pretending to love you, 
to save his life. 

Elizabeth. Pretending to love me! Pretending! 

Valentine. Yes, that night I was his go-between 
with his confession—he, he, he, he ! His plot! Don’t 
you remember? 

Elizabeth. Yes, now I see! For only I could 
save him, there was no other way. 

Valentine. Yes, he, he, he, he made you love 
him and send the soldiers away again, didn’t he? 

Elizabeth. Oh, how I have been fooled. ( backs 
Valentine across to R.) I tricked by a miserable 
rebel, made a laughing stock! Oh, to think he did 

not really love me and that I-Oh, I shall choke, 

send someone to me. Molly, Aunt Sarah, anyone. 
Go! Don’t stand gazing at me like an owl! Go 
away and send someone ! 

(Pushes Valentine out l. i. e.) 

Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do? I must re- 



MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. G7 

pay him for his duplicity, I shall never rest till I do! 
What an easy dupe he must think me. ( crosses to 
spinet ) Oh, his hat! ( throws it from her down r.) 

(Sarah enters l. i. e.) 

Sarah. Elizabeth, child, whatever is it? 

Elizabeth. ( crosses down r.) I’ll pay him back, 
be sure of that. 

Sarah. Pay whom back ? 

Elizabeth, (cross up c. and then down l.) Your 
charming Captain, your gallant soldier, your ad¬ 
mirable Peyton, hang him! 

Sarah. My Peyton! I only wish he were. 
(cross r. c.) 

Elizabeth. You are welcome to him when I’ve 
done with him. Oh, Auntie, to think of it. He 
does not love me. ( sits on stool l. c.) He only 
pretended, so .that I would save his life. But he 
shall see! I will deliver him up to the troops after 
all. 

Sarah. Oh no, you would never do that! 

Elizabeth. Yo, you are right, ’twould come out 
why I had shielded him, and I should be the laugh 
of the town, (rises) Oh, how shall I pay him? 
How shall I make him feel? Ah, I know! (crosses 
down L. and returns l. c.) I’ll pay him back in his 
own coin. I’ll make him love me and then I’ll cast 
him off and laugh at him. 

Sarah. Make him love you? 

Elizabeth. Oh, perhaps you think I can’t! Wait 
and see! 

Sarah. You will have to make quick work of it, 
Elizabeth, dear, if he is going to-night. 


63 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Elizabeth. (crossing c.) I know, I know! But 
I can’t do it looking like this, (takes off cap) He 
may be here at any moment, if he comes, keep him 
till I return; keep him as if your life depended on it. 
(starting to go upstairs) 

Sarah. But, Elizabeth, wait—how? 

Elizabeth. How? By hook or crook! You 
must think of a way. I have other things in my 
mind. Keep him till I come back. If you let him 
go, I’ll—I’ll shake you. (shakes her) Not a word 
to him of what I have told you. I shall not be long. 
(going upstairs) 

Sarah. Where are you going? 

Elizabeth, (halted halfway upstairs) Going? 
Going to arm myself for conquest— (going upstairs) 
Going to put up my hair ! (calling) Molly ! Molly ! 
I want you! 

(She runs along landing and exits R. u. E.) 

Sarah-, (sits) If I don’t keep him, she’ll shake 
me! She has shaken me ! Oh, why don’t they make 
aunts big? Why wasn’t I born a great aunt? (rises 
and crosses to down l.) Besides, if I don’t keep him, 
she will swear I have no conversation, no charm, and 
laugh me out of my senses! It will be very difficult. 
If I might only detain him for myself, it would not 
be so hard. I daren’t say she wants him, and I cant 
say 1 want him. If only dear Mr. Valentine were 
here! Ah, his hat! (picks it up) He won’t go 
without his hat a night like this. I’ll hide it, ah, 
the cupboard! 

(She goes towards cupboard l. c. but wheels round, 
hat behind her , as Peyton enters l. u. e. on stairs , 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


69 


with cloak and sword, his boots now spurred. She 

giggles.) 

Sarah. Oh, la! 

Peyton. Ah, Mistress Williams, I left my hat 
here somewhere. 

Sarah. Indeed! 

Peyton. Yes. Do you see it anywhere ( searches 
about.) 

Sarah. ( backs down stage, hat behind her, always 
facing him) No, I don’t see it anywhere. 

Peyton. ’Tis strange! ( searches ) Yet ’tis not 

in my room. Would you mind helping me to look 
for it ? I must soon be on my way. Do me the kind¬ 
ness, Madam, will you not? ( crosses R.) 

Sarah. Why, yes, with pleasure. ( follows him 
about) 

(He turns suddenly, bumps into her, she gives a 
little cry and drops hat.) 

Peyton. I beg your pardon! ( stands worried) 
It must have fallen to the floor. 

Sarah. Why, yes, we never thought of looking 
there, did we? ( grabs up hat unseen) 

(They make a tour of the room, looking under all the 

furniture.) 

Peyton. ( desperately) It must be behind some¬ 
thing. (up to screen R. c.) 

Sarah, (down l. gasps) Oh yes, of course, it 
surely must be behind something, (l. i.) Behind 
the chimney—by the chimney—up the chimney. Oh, 
look over there. 



70 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(Sarah throws hat in dining-room. Peyton turns 
—sees her closing door.) 

Peyton. Ah, the dining-room? 

Sarah. Oh no, it could not be in there. 

Peyton. But yes, one of the servants might have 
put it in there, (goes up towards her) 

Sarah. Oh, no, no! (stands with hack to door) 

Peyton. No harm to look, (puts his hand on 
handle) 

Sarah. (screams) Ha! (runs to centre of 
room) Come away! Oh, come here! 

Peyton. What’s the matter? 

Sarati. Oh, I am going to shake. 

Peyton, (coming to her) Shake! 

Sarah. No, I mean shook—shaken —no, faint! ! ! 
(flops in his arms) 

Peyton, (supporting her) Oh, pray don’t faint! 
I haven’t time. Let me call someone. Give me your 
vinaigrette, let me help you to the settee, (tries to 
do so, she resists) 

Sarah. No, no, I am better now. But come— 
(clutches liis arm) 

Peyton. Ah, I thank you for not fainting, (re¬ 
leases himself and goes to door l. i. e. finds hat) By 
George, I was right—Now, Mistress Williams, I 
think I must— 

Sarah. No, no, you mustn’t— 

Peyton. Mustn’t what ? 

Sarah. Mustn’t! That is—Captain—you—you 
mustn’t ! (half crying) 

Peyton. Pray excuse me, Madam. I will call 
some assistance, (returns to go off l. u. e.) 




71 


MISS ELIZABETH'S PRISONER. 

Sarah. No, no, good heavens not yet, you mustn’t. 
You mustn’t go out that way— 

{He turns lack — Sarah gets to front door.) 

You mustn’t open this door. 

Peyton. But— 

Sarah. You mustn’t! I say, I can’t help it, I 
have reasons. I’m shaken enough as it is; don’t 
blame me, don’t speak—don’t ask me to explain. I 
can’t—I mayn’t—I won’t. But you must — not — 
open — this — door. 

Peyton. Your wishes are commands, Madam. 
{lows) I will open another, {stands R. of spinet 
stool). 

(Elizabeth heard off r. u. e. on landing, singing. 
“ Where Roses Hush, etc ” She comes down stairs, 
looking into a look. Peyton stands awaiting her. 
/Sarah gasps. Elizabeth- curtseys, crosses to 
fireplace reading.) 

Sarah. Elizabeth, I—I think I’ll go to bed. 
{Exit r. u. e. upstairs.) 

Peyton. I fear your aunt requires looking to; she 
behaved strangely. 

Elizabeth. Oh, she is subject to queer spells 
sometimes. 

Peyton. Miss Philipse, I trust, Miss Philipse— 
when I am gone— 

Elizabeth. Oh, lud, the chocolate is getting cold. 
{takes cup from talle and goes to urn r. and fills it) 
Won’t you have some, Captain Peyton? 

Peyton. No, I thank you. The truth is, Miss 


72 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Philipse, now that I am so soon to leave, there is—- 
something— I must say to you. 

Elizabeth. I know it. ( back to table with cup ) 

Peyton. You do ? 

Elizabeth. Certainly. (putting cup down) 
How could you leave without saying it? 

Peyton. Without saying what? 

Elizabeth. Don’t you know? You were not at 
all tongue-tied when you said it that—the evening 
you came here. 

Peyton. But—ah, you see what I said then—is 
not what I have to say now. That night you spared 
my life I did not love you. I must be honest and 
tell you this, though I lose my all in the telling. I 
did not love you then—but now—oh, you will under¬ 
stand—you must understand— I thought to feign, 
but I played with fire—I burned myself in the flames 
—my heart aches with the burning. I love you. 
Believe me—'believe me and love me too! 

Elizabeth. ( crossing l. c.) Why, Captain, what 
a change—ah! I know, the old house has been shut 
so long—the candles—this turning of day into night, 
all play tricks on us—it is a kind of waking sleep. 

Peyton. Nay, I have risen from my sleep. If 
you in waking put off love, I in waking, find it. 

Elizabeth. A somewhat sudden discovery. 

Peyton. Love is born of a glance. 

Elizabeth. Have I not heard that before ? 

Peyton. Ay, when I did not mean it. now I say 
it again when I do. 

Elizabeth. And of what particular glance am I 
to suppose— 

Peyton. All are particular where you are con- 



MISS ELIZABETH'S PRISONER. 


73 


cerned, of any one of a thousand—this morning—an 
hour since—yes, born of a glance or what you will. 

Elizabeth. I don’t will it should be born at all. 

Peyton. You don’t wish I should love you ? 

Elizabeth. I don’t wish you should love me or 
should not love me, I don’t wish you anything. Why 
should I wish for what I do not value ? 

Peyton. By heavens! Say what you do value, 
my love shall become like it. 

Elizabeth. Value? I value poetry, music, 
flowers, light! 

Peyton. Poetry, music. Fashion my love into 
verse and set me to an air. 

Elizabeth. Lud, Captain, i;would be sheer waste 
of time, you have such a taking air already. 

Peyton. Bury me stark in your garden, and a 
rose bush shall grow from mv heart to your feet. 

Elizabeth. A very * thorny point of bare dis¬ 
tress.’ Nay, I do not value briars. 

Peyton. You value light! Set me your heart as 
a beacon, and I will singe my soul at the flame. 

Elizabeth. La, now you are a moth—a moment 
ago a rosebush— 

Peyton. And you are ten million roses grown in 
the garden of Heaven and fashioned in Paradise to 
one perfect whole, its centre is in your heart, its 
perfume is in your hair, its bloom upon your cheek, 
and all your lovely petals enfold and bury my soul, I 
worship you, I worship you. 

Elizabeth. (sits on spinet stool) I remember! 
You spoke of love a week ago, with no less eloquence 
and ardour. 

Peyton. (crosses l. c.) More eloquence, I dare 


74 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


swear, for ardour I did not feel. Then my tongue 
was not tied by a passion, it could never hope to ex¬ 
press; and now— (kneels) ah, even if my tongue had 
power to voice my heart, you would not trust its 
truth, but I do love you, I do, I do! 

Elizabeth. If I could be sure you spoke in earn¬ 
est ! 

Peyton. In earnest? A -week ago I lied to save 
my neck. To-night all that is true in me cries out to 
win your heart. What reason have I now for feign¬ 
ing love I do not feel ? A w T eek ago I loved my life, 
I loathed the shameful ending you so lightly would 
have put to it; but now my life is empty, worthless, 
naught, without you. I love you—I love you! Ah, 
there is no life left but in you—there is nothing in 
the world but you ! 

(Elizabeth during speech, her face shoivs her re¬ 
sponsive to every word. She is about to yield, but 

pulls herself together as she speaks.) 

Elizabeth. ( rising and crossing r.) Mere 

words! 

Peyton. I’ll prove them by my actions then! 

Elizabeth. Then prove them thus—say “ Long 
Live the King! 

Peyton. (going c. pause) No ! 

Elizabeth. Long Live the King! Say it! Say 
it all! 

Peyton. Long live Elizabeth Philipse, Queen in 
the United States of America. 

Elizabeth. You don’t love me! You don’t love 
me! 

Peyton. I do ! I swear it on my knees! 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 75 

Elizabeth. Then go on your knees. 

Peyton, (kneels l. c. facing r.) I do! I love 
you. 

Elizabeth. Both knees. 

Peyton. Both ! I love you ! 

Elizabeth. Bow lower. 

Peyton. I touch the floor, and love you still. 
Are you convinced? 

Elizabeth. Yes. 

Peyton. . Perfectly convinced ? 

Elizabeth. Absolutely! 

Peyton. (still on knees ) Then my reward! 

Aou said if you could be sure I spoke in earnest— 

(She stops r. c.) 

Ah, you admit you are sure. What then ? 

Elizabeth, (turns r. c.) What then? This— 
that you are now more contemptible and ridiculous 
and utterly non-existent to me than you have ever 
been, that if you remain here till to-morrow— 

(One knee.) 

You may see me in the arms of Jack Colden, and 
he may not he as careless of the fate of a vagabond 
rebel as I am. And now, Captain Crayton, or Day- 
ton, or Peyton, or whatever you please, of somebody 
or other’s light-fingered horsemen, go or stay as you 
choose; you are as welcome as any other casual pass¬ 
erby ; for all the comical figure your impudence has 
made you cut—( laughing ) Convinced! Oh, ab¬ 
solutely convinced! Learn modesty and you may 
fare better in your next undertaking, if you do not 
aim too high. Learn modesty, sir, and that piece of 
advice is the reward I hinted at. 


76 MISS ELIZABETH'S PRISONER. 

(She crosses laughing and exits l. i. e. laughing al¬ 
most hysterically .) 

Peyton. Well, Fm damned. Colden—the arms 
of Jack Colden! I—I’ll stay and meet that man, 
at all events. ( sits on stool by spinet) 

Sarah, (sings) 

And yet the roses softly sigh 
For endless day in which to woo! 

( Sarah sings as she enters, down stairs, the above 
two lines, she curtseys to Peyton, who rise , bows 
and pushes stool under spinet.) 

Your pardon, Captain! I am looking for Elizabeth! 

Peyton, (l. c.) Miss Philipse! She went that 
way. ( points to door l.) I trust you have recovered 
from your attack. 

Sarah, (c.) My attack! 

Peyton. A queer spell I think Miss Philipse 
called it. She said you were subject to them. 

Sarah. Well, how does she dare? I suppose that 
was not the only thing she said to you ? 

Peyton. No, she said other things. 

Sarah. They don’t seem to have left you so very 
cheerful. 

Peyton. Not so damnably cheerful—I beg your 
pardon! 

Sarah. Ah, excuse me, Captain, I must find 
Elizabeth. I have news for her. (going towards 
door l.) 

Peyton. News! 

Sarah. Yes. From the parlour window I saw 
Major Colden riding this way. 


MISS ELIZABETH'S PRISONER. 77 

(Knock.) 

Elizabeth! Elizabeth! 

(Exit l. calling Elizabeth.) 

Peyton. Golden ! Colden ! I trust he will prove 
as strong-minded as the lady, (crosses to fireplace) 

(At knock Cuff enters from, under stairs l. u. e. and 
unlocks door c. admitting Major Colden— he 
enters, stamping and shaking snow from him — 
gives cloak to Cuff, hat and pistol on spinet.) 

(Elizabeth enters l. i. e. followed by Sarah.) 

Elizabeth. Ah, Jack, at last! 

Colden. Take my horse, boy. (comes gladly 
down to Elizabeth) 

(Cuff goes out c.) 

Elizabeth ! (holds out his hands, she gives hers, he 
stoops to kiss them when Peyton speaks) 

Peyton, (back to fireplace) I wish you a very 
good day, Major Colden. 

Colden. What does this mean ? Elizabeth, why 
is this man here again ? Are any of his troops with 
him ? 

Elizabeth. No, he is quite alone. 

Colden. (more firmly) Then why have not your 
servants made him a prisoner? 

Elizabeth. Because he has so affronted me, Jack, 
that the offence can only be paid for at your hands! 

Peyton. And as I never give credit, Major 
Colden, I have remained to receive my payment now. 

Colden. A moment, sir! Elizabeth! (aside to 
her) We have only to temporise with him, some 
of my men have attended me from my quarters; bet- 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


7S 

ter mounted, I rode ahead—my fellows will be here 
soon and the business will be done. 

Elizabeth. ’Twill be no shame to him to be made 
prisoner by numbers. 

Peyton. I am waiting for my payment, Major 
Colden. 

Colden. (blusteringly) You wish to seek a quar¬ 
rel with me, sir? 

Peyton. Seek a quarrel, good lord, is not the 
quarrel here? Has not Miss Philipse spoken of an 
affront! Gad, she’d not have to speak twice to make 
me draw. 

Colden. I do not fight in the presence of ladies. 

Peyton. Nor I. Choose your own place in the 
garden' yonder, with snow on the ground, there’s light 
enough. 

Colden. There’s no regularity in such a meeting; 
where are the seconds? 

Elizabeth. ( coming down) I’ll be your second. 
Jack; Auntie, oblige Captain Peyton. 

Sarah. Oh, my dear! 

Colden. Ridiculous! 

Peyton. Anything to bring you out. (sharply 
claps sword with left hand, it comes away in the 
action) Damme! I’d forgotten, ’tis all I had left! 
Come, sir, I’ll give you the odds; I’ll fight you with 
half a sword. 

Colden. (grandly) I would not take an advan¬ 
tage. 

Peyton. Then break your own sword and make 
us equal. 

Colden. I have too much respect for my weapon. 

Peyton. Then, sir, I must be less scrupulous than 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 79 

you, I will take an advantage, you take the broken 
sword and lend me yours. 

Colden. Do you think I 7 m a fool to put it in 
your power to murder me? 

Elizabeth. I'll tell you what, gentlemen, use 
the swords above the chimney piece yonder, they are 
equal. 

Peyton. Yes. (jumps on settle to reach them 
down) 

Golden. No, Elizabeth— (up to table) I will not 
so degrade myself as to cross swords except on the 
battlefield with one who is a rebel, a deserter and no 
gentleman. 

Peyton. I congratulate you, Major, on finding 
an opponent with so many disqualifications, you 
must be singularly happy, (jumps down from set¬ 
tle) You see, Madam, ’tis no fault of mine if my 
affront goes unpunished, since this gentleman must 
keep his courage for the battlefield. Gad, sir, if your 
whole stock-in-trade is like the sample, Twill need 
replenishing there— (crossing to l. takes hat off 
spinet, bows to Elizabeth) Madam, my inability to 
shed my blood to pleasure you is but an ill reward 
for your generous hospitality or the admiration you 
inspire; yet, believe me, that in this poor coxcomb 
rebel horse-thief there beats an ever grateful heart. 
That it is not so sound as on my arrival is due less 
to the Major’s valour than the weakness of your sex. 
(goes up c.) I take my leave of this house with 
much regret. 

(lie goes out c.) 

Elizabeth. The weakness of my sex! Why did 
you not fight him? (cross to Golden) 


so 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Colden. ( crosses down c.) What was the use? 
He’s reserved for the gallows. If only my men were 
here—why not send your servants after him—Sam is 
a powerful fellow and Edwards- 

Elizabeth. Why did you not fight him ? Was it 
because he disarmed you three years ago? 

Colden. You must think so if you choose. 

Elizabeth. You will find refreshments in the 
room yonder. ( crosses R., points L.) 

Colden. I would rather remain with you. 

Elizabeth. I would rather be alone with my 
aunt awhile. 

Colden. As you will, (bows) 

(Exit quickly L. door, slamming it after him.) 

Elizabeth. Oh, what a chicken-hearted copy of 
a man. And he calls himself a soldier ; I wonder 
where he found the spirit to volunteer. 

Sarah. From you, my dear, from you. Didn’t 
you urge him to take a commission ? 

Elizabeth. And that rebel fellow had the best of 
it all through. How he swaggered out, with what a 
look of triumph in his eye, ( crosses R. c.) and, 
Auntie, he won’t come back, I shall never see him 
again. ( sits c.) 

Sarah. Why, child, do you wish it? 

Elizabeth. Of course not, but I can’t have him 
go away with the laugh on his side, (rises) “ the 
weakness of my sex ”! Oh, he must come back. 
(cross down l.) 

Sarah, (cross R. c.) Elizabeth! I’ll wager you 
are still in love with him. 

Elizabeth. I’m not, I hate him. Well, and what 



MISS ELIZABETH'S PRISONER. 81 

if I am, he loved me, I am sure the last time he said 
it he did, and he's going farther away every instant. 
(goes up c.) 

Sarah. Then why don’t you call him back ? (sits 
R. c.) 

Elizabeth. (comes down c.) I—not if I die 
for want of seeing him! I know, I will send the 
servants after him. 

Sarah. That will be as bad as catling him your¬ 
self. 

Elizabeth. Not at all! While he’s going round 
by the road, Edwards and Sam shall cut across the 
garden, lie in wait, and take him by surprise, he has 
no weapon, only his dear broken sword, (r. c.) 
They can make him prisoner, bring him hack here 
bound, and he’ll think he is to be handed over to the 
British after all. 

Sarah. (sitting c.) And won’t he? 

Elizabeth, (kneeling with her arms on Aunt 
Sarah’s chair) No! He shall be left alone here 
well guarded for half an hour, then I’ll happen in, 
give him an opportunity to make love again and— 
and—I can yield gracefully, don’t you see? 

Sarah. Then you do love him ? 

Elizabeth, (rises) I don’t know, but I don’t 
love John Colden, not a word to him of this. I am 
going to give orders to the men. 

(As she goes to door l. i. e. Golden followed by 

Valentine enters l. i. e. Sarah by fireplace.) 

Colden. What, Elizabeth—still angry? 

Elizabeth. Excuse me, I have something to at¬ 
tend to. 


82 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


(goes up c. and exits l. e. u.) 

Valentine. Come, Major, you will see enough of 
the lady after she is married to you! I was just 
going to say, the last lot of tobacco— 

Colden. Oh, damn your tobacco. 

Valentine. Damn my tobacco! 

Colden. Yes, Fve matters more important on 
my mind just now. 

Valentine. The deuce, what could be more im¬ 
portant than tobacco? ( gets up, puts on cloak, 
muffler, gets stick, hat and gloves) 

Colden. (to Sarah) Was ever a woman so un¬ 
reasonable as Elizabeth—she ? d have me lower myself 
to meet that rebel vagabond as one gentleman meets 
another. 

Sarah. You met him so once. 

Colden. I had a less scrupulous sense of pro¬ 
priety then. 

Sarah. But as he’s a rebel and a deserter, was 
it not your duty as a soldier to take him just now? 

Colden. I’d have done so had my men been here. 
Elizabeth should have had her servants hold him, 
I’d half a mind to order them in the King’s name, 
but I can never bring myself to oppose her—she is so 
masterful. By George, though, I’ll have him yet. 
(goes to window l.) My men must be here soon. 
He will leave tracks in the snow/I don’t see the ras¬ 
cals though, they’ve stopped at some tavern, I’ll 
warrant. 

Valentine, (coming c.) Damn my tobacco! 
Mistress Sally, this is the first chance I’ve had to 
speak to you alone this hour or more. 



MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


83 


Saraii. But we are not alone. 

Valentine. Oh, he’s nobody, a man who damns 
tobacco is nobody, so Mistress Sarah, if you please, 
we’ll begin where we left off. What’s your answer, 
ma’am ? 

Sarah. Oh, Mr. Valentine, not now, you must 
give me time. 

Valentine. That’s what you said afore. 

Sarah. Well, give me more time then. 

Valentine. How much ? 

Sarah. Oh, I don’t know; long enough for me 
to make up my mind. (crosses in front of Valen¬ 
tine to l. c.) 

Valentine. Egad, ma’am, if my other poor 
dears had taken as long, I shouldn’t have been twice 
a widower by now. 

Sarah. Oh, Mr. Valentine, you know— 

Valentine. Very likely—I don’t know—well, 
take your time, ma’am, only please to recollect I 
haven’t so very much time left, better take me while 
I’m here to be had. Good night, ma’am, {going) 

Sarah. Sure, Mr. Valentine, you’re not leav¬ 
ing us like this, when—where shall we see you 
again? 

Valentine. I can’t rightly say, ma’am, I’ve put 
off killing a pig this week past; I doubt I shall be too 
busy to come down, but Mistress Babcock can let me 
know if you— 

Sarah. Mistress Babcock! 

Valentine. Yes, she’s coming to help with the 
puddins, she’s a rare hand with the puddins. 

Sarah. Grace Babcock! She make your black 
puddings! Let her dare! ! ! (cross down l. and 


84 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


return l. c.) Anything—anything—dear Mr. Val¬ 
entine, but that. 

Valentine. I don’t know. That pig ’tis fair 
spoiling to be killed. 

Sarah. ( breathlessly) Yes, yes, come down 
early to-morrow. 

Valentine. Eh? That I will, pretty dear. 

Sarah, (working him up stage) Good night, 
dear Mr. Valentine, good night. Now do take care 
of yourself—wrap up well—it’s such a bitter cold 
night, and cover up your mouth and put on your hat! 
I like you in your hat, you look younger in your 
hat. 

Valentine. Your servant, Mistress Sally, 
(kisses her hand) Egad, Sally, I mean—I’ve seen 
it in your eye, lovee, this while back. 

Sarah. Seen it? 

Valentine. Yes, Mrs. Valentine No. S. Ah! I 
ought to know! I’ve buried two, that I have, pretty 
dears. 

{Exit c.) 


Sarah. 
tine’s day! 
COLDEN. 
Sarah. 


(sings) To-morrow will be St. Valen- 
Oh, Grace Babcock indeed ! 

(at window) Who are these coming? 
(rises, running to window) Mr. Valen¬ 


tine? 

Colden. No, no, not that old fool—these, I mean. 

Sarah, (coming to window) Are they your 
men? 

Colden. No, mine are mounted, why ’tis Ed¬ 
wards and Sam, and they are bringing—why yes, 
damn it, ’tis he—they are bringing him back like a 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


85 


trussed fowl—she’s done it, after all—without con¬ 
sulting me. (goes to door c.) 

Sarah. I must tell Elizabeth they have him. 

(Exit l. u. E.) 

Colden. This way, no, not the back door, bring 
him in here—put your knee in his back—so, ha, ha! 
My gallows bird, so you’ve returned to roost for good 
and all. (crosses down r. back to fireplace) 

(Sam and Edwards thrust Peyton through the 
doorway. He stumbles forward, bound, the Three 
are covered in snow — Sam holds the end of the 
rope in one hand, Edwards the broken sword. 
They turn to shut the door. Sam on the right of 
Peyton shoves it to with his left hand, Edwards 
locks it. A short pause.) 

Peyton, (laughingly) The hospitality of this 
house beats all recollection—one is always coming 
back to it. 

Colden. Good, Edwards, place him in that chair, 
that’s right—tie him up, Sam, now leave him here 
with me. 

(Sam binds Peyton in chair c.) 

Edwards (putting sword on table) This was the 
only weapon he had, sir, we roped him from behind 
before he could use it. 

Peyton. Ay, if the snow had not deadened your 
sneaking footsteps, I think ’twould have served for 
the pair of you. 

Edwards. I am sorry, Captain Peyton, but ’twas 
Miss Elizabeth’s orders, (goes toward door under 
staircase) 


8(3 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Sam (following him) Yes, Massa, Missy Lis- 
beth’s orders. 

Golden. Yes, yes, at my suggestion, Edwards. 
Peyton. All ! needs must when the devil drives. 
(sharply as if in pain) O-oh! Edwards! Wipe 
the snow out of my collar, (he jerks his head for¬ 
ward) 

(Edwards wipes neck with handkerchief.) 

Ah! Thanks! No need of a stiff neck before one’s 
time, eh, Major? 

(Sam gives an admiring sniggle.) 

Colden. Damme, Edwards, that’ll do —you may 

go- 

(Sam goes out l. u. e.) 

Edwards. Yes, sir. 

(Edwards following him.) 

Golden. Leave the door open, so you can hear if 
I call. 

(Peyton catches the Major’s eye ivith a meaning 
smile, and then a little reproving click of the 
tongue.) 

Peyton. Tut, tut, tut! 

(Colden swings away muttering, to fireplace, 
roughly pokinq fire.) 

Cold, Major? 

Colden. No, sir, I am not. 

Peyton. Ah ! too warm, I see ! 

(Colden crosses in front of Peyton to L.) 

( reflectively ) The little old woman is plucking her 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


87 


geese full early this year. Surely your stock is not 
exhausted so soon, Major? 

Colden. Of what, sir? (down l.) 

Peyton. Little white feathers, that's all. 

(Colden whirls savagely round with an oath.) 

Oh, if you look like that I shall believe you are sorry 
I ever came back. 

Colden. (l. c.) You’ll not come back the next 
time you leave. 

Peyton. (seated c.) And when will that he? 

Colden. As soon as my men arrive. They at¬ 
tended me out of New York, I shall be generous and 
give them over to you to attend you into New York. 

Peyton. We shall enter it with an escort of our 
own choosing some day—and a sorry day that for you 
Tories and refugees, my dear gentleman. 

Colden. If that day ever comes you’ll have been 
rotting under ground a long time, and thanks to me, 
don’t forget that. 

Peyton. Thanks to her, you coward, ’twas she 
who sent her servants after me. 

Colden. I might have pistolled you here to-night, 
but for the presence of the ladies. 

Peyton. Or was it that you’re a devilish had shot. 

Colden. Damn you, I’d show you how bad a shot 
I am but that I would rather see you on the gallows. 

Peyton. Will she come to see me there, I 
wonder? So you’re coming to gloat on my corpse, 
are you? ’Twill be a famous sight! Up above a 
dead, sheer weight of cold humanity, a purple face 
hanging by a cord, and below—on your knees, Major, 
if you’re truly grateful,—a pale coward thanking 


88 MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 

God he has seen a better man die! And somewhere 
in the crowd you’ll hear a woman’s cry, for my spirit 
will kiss her on the lips, and taste the sweets of her 
revenge, not yours, you dog, not yours. 

Colden. Not mine, then I will have mine now. 

(strikes him in the face with his glove as :— 

(Elizabeth enters l. u. e.) 

Peyton. That blow I charge against you both; 
the lady as well as you. 

Colden. The lady as well as me! Yes! and this 
too! (lifts whip off spinet to strike him again.) 

Elizabeth, (rushing in between them) Stop! 
How dare you ? 

Colden. What do you mean? 

Elizabeth, (hand on Peyton’s chair) How 
dare you strike my prisoner? 

Colden. Elizabeth! Your prisoner! He is the 
King’s, and as such is— 

Elizabeth. Mine, not yours. Did you take him, 
did you order him to be taken, are my servants your 
men, is this your house? (calling off L. u. E.) Ed¬ 
wards ! Sam! 

Colden. Elizabeth—you will not— 

Elizabeth. Will not ? Plow little you know me. 
(turns to Peyton) Sir—you will give me your word 
not to try in any way to escape? 

Peyton. You have it, Madam. 

(Edwards enters l. u. e.) 

Edwards. You called, Miss Elizabeth ? 

Elizabeth. Yes! Put my saddle on Cato’s back. 
Tell Sam to bring him to the door. When Major 
Colden’s men arrive, I return to New York. Be 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


89 


quick! They may be here any moment, and I would 
not keep the King’s soldiers waiting. 

(Exit Edwards l. u. e.) 

(goes to undo rope) Sir, I take your parole. 

Colden. Nay, but Elizabeth, I protest— 

Elizabeth. You? What are you? Gentleman 
enough to fight him ? Soldier enough to take him ? 
No! Only when he is brought back here bound, de¬ 
fenceless, you are—what you are— knave enough to 
strike him. 

Colden. Elizabeth! ( crosses down l.) 

Elizabeth. Oh! I know my own shame in the 
matter, T do not seek to excuse it, but thank Heaven 
there is a difference between us. ( undoing ropes) I 
pray you—rise, sir. I stand ashamed while you sit 
bound. 

(Peyton slowly rises.) 

Colden. Elizabeth, I do not deserve this treat¬ 
ment. You—you use me very strangely. 

Elizabeth. ( going to him l.) Because I feel 
strangely to you. 

(Peyton goes to fireplace.) 

Oh, I can speak no other way. To think how you 
have shamed me. 

Colden. I—shamed you? 

Elizabeth. Ever and always. In every thought 
of you, you have shamed me. We have been strangers 
all these years, absolute strangers—strangers walk¬ 
ing in familiar ways—each endearment—oh, our 
betrothal has been a betrayal—I have not known 
you. 


90 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


Colden. Elizabeth — you do not mean—you are 
—before this man, it is not fitting. 

Elizabeth. Before this man it is most fitting. I 
have wronged him every way. Only now when 
I would have called him back to receive the amends I 
owed him, my pride forbade me. I stooped to strata¬ 
gem. I said, “ He will imagine I intend to hand 
him over to the British, then I will release him and 
surprise his more generous nature into forgiveness 

ere I need to ask his pardon.” 

• 

(Peyton works round from fireplace to back of set¬ 
tee r. c.) 

The tables are turned indeed. I stand in a pillory 
of my own making. The ropes that bound him, the 
blow you struck him, are so much wayside filth 
flung in my face by the man I—I—oh ! can’t you 
see? It sickens me, it sickens me! ( crossing r. 
she sinks on settee R. sobbing.) 

Colden. ( hoarsely) Yes, yes—you love him ! 

Peyton. ( coming c.) You—love—me— Colden, 
you’ve got the rope round my neck, but by God, your 
whole army shan’t gag me now. ( turns to Eliza¬ 
beth c.) 

Colden. Curse you ! I might have guessed! If 
only my men were here. ( goes up to door c., un¬ 
locks it and stands outside.) 

Peyton. Sweetheart, sweetheart—nay what is a 
blow more or less—a man in these rough times takes 
them when they are due—repays them whenever he 
can, and forgets both, give and take at all times. 
Hush, hush, I have forgotten—but we’ve ended our 
game of miake-believe. We’ve done with pretence— 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 91 

we are real, you and I, then speak what your heart 
is beating—say those dear words to me. 

Elizabeth. I—I love you. 

Peyton. Elizabeth—Elizabeth—say it again! 
Ah, say it—say it all! 

Elizabeth. I love you ! 

Peyton. ( raising her) Now—God save your 
King! 

Elizabeth. You said there was no king in 
America ! I have found him—found him here— 
my heart’s dear king—Yes, yes, God save my King! 
(falls in his arms.) 

Peyton. Elizabeth! Elizabeth! (folds her in 
his arms.) 

(Sam enters l. u. e. and Colden re-enters at same 
moment, a pistol in his hand. Sam speaks from 
l. u. e.) 

Sam. Dey’s sojers coming up de Avenue. 
Elizabeth. Soldiers— I give you back your pa¬ 
role. 

(Sam disappears from window.) 

Colden. Ah, my men—my men at last. You 
love too late, (locks door c.) 

Elizabeth. No, no—Cato will carry you through. 
(crosses L.) 

Colden. No ! My men shall take him! D’ye 
hear, you rebel. My men shall take you! D’ye 
hear? (to Elizabeth) You have never known me, 
Elizabeth, you shall know me now. (turns from 
door to Elizabeth) So our betrothal was a be¬ 
trayal, was it? Are all your betrothals the same? 
Who’s betrayed now? Your new lover’s in the trap. 


92 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


{laughs) The trap you made—you yourself. Did 
I take him? Oh, no! Not I! He shall hang, do 
you hear? He shall hang—hang! 

Elizabeth. No, no, Colden, no! ( crosses l.) 
He’s my prisoner—I will bear the blame! I—I— 
Oh, God!—Jack, let him go! 

Peyton. Elizabeth, you shall not. ( tries to re¬ 
strain her.) 

Elizabeth. No, no! ( she clings to Colden) 
Jack, you shan’t do it—let him go and I will give 
him up—I’ll never speak to him again. I’ll never 
see him again. Ah!—they are coming. I’ll give 
him up! I will marry you! For God’s sake, Jack, 
let him go! 

Colden. No! I hold him ! Move, you rebel, and 
I pistol you—pistol the pair of you. Move, and I’ll 
pistol her first— 

(She sinks on her knees, clinging to him and sob¬ 
bing.) 

% 

So you’ll give him up, will you? What? For me? 
The coward—the jilted coward—the jilted, despica¬ 
ble coward—the knave—the stranger—the absolute 
stranger, you’ll give up your lover for that? For 
me? By God! you don’t. D ye want a second chance 
to humiliate me—to despise me, dishonour me ? Oh, 
you shall have it—yes, yes, yes, you shall! You 
shall jilt me again, you jade, if ever his corpse goes 
a courting. 

Elizbeth. No, no, Colden — no, no, you can’t— 
you can’t—you can’t—you can't—you can’t! 

Peyton, {strides forward, picks her up) Eliza¬ 
beth, you shall not beg for me. I want my life now, 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


93 


more than ever—but not enough to see you on your 
knees to him. ( places her in chair R. c.) 

Elizabeth. What will you do? 

Peyton. Fight, fight them one and all. The 
whole troop, the half troop, this. They shall all 
dance at the wedding. Here’s the best man ! There ! 
(slaps Colden on the face lightly ) That’s for your 
coward’s blow, Mr. Colden. Now fight me! 

Colden. No, I won’t fight you! I won’t pistol 
you! You shall hang! 

Peyton. What, must I go on my knees to you 
too? There, there, then ! ( kneels) You were right, 

Colden—she’s a woman—a very woman worth the 
loving, worth the living, worth the dying, eh? 

(Sabres and swords.) 

She loves me, do you hear? She loves me, we are 
going to be married—she and I—you were right— 
she jilts your lusty living body to go a courting with 
my corpse. 

(Noise of soldiers.) 

Oh! if you are a man at all, you’ll fight me now. 

Colden. No! you shall hang! 

Peyton. What! won’t you take the last, least 
chance of proving yourself a man. (laughing.) 

(Elizabeth rises and gets r.) 

God! he hasn’t the courage even to kill me. (rising, 
takes sword from mantel) Well, your men shall 
do me that service. At least I’ll die with a sword in 
my hand. 

Colden. (opens door c.) Quick, my men—this 
wa y —there’s a rebel here with a price for the tak- 


94 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 


ing. ( coming down l. again) Quick! he’s meant 
to hang! 

(Carrington with six troopers and Valentine 

enter c.) 

Peyton. Carrington! 

Colden. ( turning) What—who—Lee’s men! 
Peyton. Carrington! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
My men ! (pause) Oh, Lord ! Major, you’ve for¬ 
gotten your cloak. 

(Colden gives a cry of rage—he takes aim at Pey¬ 
ton— the pistol goes off.) 

(The men secure Colden.) 

Missed! 

Elizabeth. Oh, thank God! thank God! (goes 
to Peyton.) 

Peyton. Ah, Colden, I told you you were a 
devilish bad shot. 

Carrington, (to Colden) Keep still, or you’ll 
get worse. Now then, your name, rank, regiment— 
Peyton. No, no, Carrington—we don’t want 
him. 

Carrington. Colonel Lee’s orders, sir. All sol¬ 
diers bearing arms for the British. 

Peyton. Yes, but you see, Carrington, lie’s not 
really a soldier, are you, Mr. Colden? No, no, let 
him go. 

Carrington. Colonel Lee will hold us responsi¬ 
ble, sir. 

Peyton. That’s all right, Carrington, thanks to 
you, I resume my command and will answer to 
Colonel Lee. But, Carrington, how did you find 
me? 


MISS ELIZABETH’S PRISONER. 95 

Carrington. Why, sir, the old gentleman— 
('pointing to Valentine.) 

Peyton and Elizabeth, (as they see Valen¬ 
tine) Mr. Valentine! 

Valentine. (In doorway, shaking his stick at 
Colden) He damned my tobacco! 

(Exit c.) 

Elizabeth. Dear Mr. Valentine! 

Peyton. Release your prisoner. 

(They release Colden who goes out c.) 

To horse again, Carrington—I will join you at once. 
(crosses R. c.) 

Carrington. About turn—march ! 

(The troopers salute and go out.) 

Peyton, (turns to Elizabeth) Elizabeth! 

Elizabeth, (goes to him and places her hands 
on his shoulders ) My dear! You must not further 
risk your life—you must go at once. Y r ou were my 
prisoner—I set you free. 

Peyton. I am more your prisoner now than ever. 
You’ve cut these bonds, (pointing to ropes) When 
will you set others on me? 

Elizabeth. W 7 hen the war is over—let Cato 
bring you back. 

(They embrace.) 

Peyton. Elizabeth! Elizabeth! 


slow curtain. 


property Cues. 


ACT I. 

KNOCKS. 

Cue. That’s about the worst of it. Golden knock. 

Cue. Then vve are a pair. Aunt Sally knock. 

Cue. They have stopped before the house. Peyton 
knock. 

Cue. We are not afraid. Peyton knock. 

Cue. Less snivelling and more cooking. 

Hoofs till 
Cue. See who ’tis. 

Cue. I defy them and all other rebels 
Hoofs till 

Cue. Tremble for our lives, I suppose. 

Cue. Mount, forward, gallop. 

Hoofs and die away. 

Cue. He does try my obedience. 

Hoofs and die away. 

Cue. Never laugh at old saws again. 

Distant firing , stop at. 

Cue. Firing beyond Locust Hill. 

Cue. He says the rebel light horse. 

Distant firing and stop. 

Cue. Wait and see 

Hoofs from the distance passing house 
and die away. 

ACT II. 

Cue. ’Tis nothing to me. 

Hoofs till clock strikes. 

Cue. Till we meet. 

Hoofs and die away. 

96 


PROPERTY CUES. 


97 


ACT I. 

Centre Door —Lock and key. 

Handle outside. 

Catch lock 

Trick lines and two men to stand by. 
Bolt. 

Bar to shutter R. C. 

On R. side. 

Table against wall. 

Hole in flat above fire for lime on C. door. 

Fireplace. 

Dogs. 

Fire-irons. 

Stool. 

Sconce on wall. 

Bureau. 

On L. side. 

Chair. 

Hat pegs. 

3 Sconces. 

Chair above stairs. 

Chair below stairs. 

Spinet. 

Music stool. 

Handle on door. 

Keys hanging beside cupboard L. 

Brass candelabra hanging C. No candles in it 
Bellows in fireplace. 

2 candles only in each sconce. 

Shutter up R. to be open. 

Window on stairs to be open. 

A taper to be on 

the bureau R. 
the spinet L. 
chair up L. 
mantelpiece. 

All tapers and candles to be parafined. 


98 


PROPERTY CUES. 


In cupboard under stairs— 

Flat brass candlestick. 

Taper. 

Basket (for Sam). 

Dutch clock on stairs—Fastened to flat. 

At C. by fire—Oak table. 

Settee. 

Armchair. 

In fireplace a lighted night-light. 

Off L. C. (Outside door) Wind box. 

Door slam. 

Marble slab. 

Cocoanuts. 

Chain to rattle. 

2 Scabbards to rattle. 

Firing prop. 

Canes for ditto. 

Knocker. 

Basket of logs (Sam). 

2 Portmanteaux (Cuff). 

Basket and cloth (Colden). 

Lighted lantern (Valentine). 

Off L. U. E.—2 Lighted candelabra. 

Butler’s tray with dishes on it. 

Small tray with knives and forks and 
glasses. 

2 Tea-cups, 2 saucers, to put on same tray, 
(one to break). 

Soup tureen and plates for butler’s tray. 
Off Landing R.—Lighted candle. 

Table glass, etc., for lady's quick change. 
Off L. U. E. (C.)—Matting. 

Horse saddled. 

Soap lather. 

Personal—Elizabeth. Whip. 

Colden. Whip. 

Peyton. Dollar notes in pocketbook. 

Valentine. Pipe filled. 





PROPERTY CUES. 


99 


ACT II. 


3 Chairs R. 

Spinet R. C. 

Music stool R. C. 

Chippendale table C. 

Chair each side of ditto. 

Clock on bracket C. 

Bar on shutter L. C. 

Chesterfield sofa L. 

Stool just behind it. 

Grandfather’s chair by fire. 

Carpet rolled up by L. door. 

Lighted candelabra on spinet. 

2 Lighted candles on mantelpiece. 

Cabinet C. under clock. 

Dust covers to chairs, 

Spinet, 

Sofa, 

Grandfather’s chair and 
Cabinet. 

Chandelier hanging’C. (also covered). 

On table C.—Paper rack. 

Ink stand. 

2 Pens. 

Pounce box. 

Paper. 

On sofa—2 Pillows. 

Fur rug. 

Fire-irons in fireplace. 

By sofa—Basin, sponge, bandage. 

Off R.—Tray with basin and spoon (Molly). 

On chairs about room Peyton’s Coat—Sword—Hat- 
Boots. 

Off L.—Lighted candle. 

Pipe and tobacco (Valentine). 

Glass with hot port and water—Spoon and slice 
of lemon. 


PROPERTY CUES. 


100 


Clock chimes (stand by these). 

Slab and cocoanuts. 

Chains and scabbards to rattle. 

Whip for Colden. 

ACT III. 

Carpet down. 

3 Skin rugs. 

2 Swords over fireplace. 

Spinet brought out into room L. 

2 Lighted candles on mantelpiece. 

Lighted candelabra on spinet 
All sconces lighted. 

Chandelier lighted. 

Shutters shut. 

Curtain on landing L. 

Chair off at ditto for change. 

Vase of flowers on spinet. 

Vase with pampas grass down R. 

On rostrum R.—Book (for Elizabeth). 

Off R. U. E.—Pampas grass and creepers. 

Off L. U. E.—Tray with chocolate urn and 3 cups and 
saucers. 

Off L. 1 E.—Tray with two glasses hot grog and spoons. 

Off L. C.—For Colden—Pistol (to fire). 

Whip. 

Gloves. 

Rope and stick. 

Oatmeal for snow. 

Scabbards and chains to rattle. 

Hanging on pegs L.—Valentine’s cloak and muffler, etc. 
On chair L.—Sally’s cloak. 

On settee.—Elizabeth’s cloak. 

On spinet.—Peyton’s hat. 

Snow going from cue. 

Facilities for lady quick change landing R. 

“ “ gentleman “ “ “ L. 


SCENERY 


101 




Scenery. 

ACT i. 

Scene The Hall. 

Late Afternoon. 
ACT II. 

Scene The Parlor. 

The same evening. 
ACT III. 

Scene :—The Hall. 

A week later—afternoon. 


9 

4 


































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:■ :‘V-, 



* 























































jar- SKNU hUK A tNbW 


IFIlVb LAIALUUIIK 


VOL. XU. 

821 The Pirate’s Legacy 
322 The Charcoal Burner 
823 Adelgitha 

324 Senor Valiente 

325 Forest Rose 

326 Duke’s Daughter 

327 Camilla’s Husband 

328 Pure Cold 

VOL. XLII. 

329 Ticket of Leave Man 

330 Pool’s Revenge 

331 O’Neil the Great 

332 Handy Andy 

333 Pirate of the Isles 
834 Fanchon 

335 Little Barefoot 

336 Wild Irish Girl 

VOL. XL11I. 

337 Pearl of Savoy 

338 Dead Heart 

339 Ten Nights in a Bar-room 

340 Dumb Boy of Manchester 

341 Belphegor theMounteb’k 

342 Cricket on the Hearth 

343 Printer’s Devil 

344 Meg’s Diversion 


( French' s Standard Drama Continued from 2 d page of Cover.) 


VOL. XL1V. 

345 Drunkard’s Doom 

346 Chimney Corner 

■s47 Fifteen Years of a Drunk- 

348 No Thoroughfare I ard’s 

349 Peep O’ Day L Life 

350 Everybody’s Friend 

351 Gen. Grant 

352 Kathleen Mavourneen 

VOL. XLV. 

353 Nick Whiffles 

354 Fruits of the Wine Cup 

355 Drunkard’s Warning 

356 Temperance Doctor 

357 Aunt Dinah 

358 Widow Freeheart 

359 Frou Frou 

360 Long Strike 

VOL. XLVl. 

361 Lancers 

362 Lucille 

363 Randall’s Thumb 

364 Wicked World 

365 Two Orphans 

366 Colleen Bawn 

367 ’Twixt Axe and Crown 

368 Lady Clancarthy 


VOL. XLVIL 

369 Saratoga 

370 Never Too Ijite to Mend 

371 Lily of France 

372 Led Astray 

373 Henry V 

374 Unequal Match 

•575 May or Dolly’s Delusion 

376 Aliatoona 

VOL. XLVIII. 

377 Enoch Arden 

378 Under the Gas Light 

379 Daniel Rochat 

380 Caste 

381 School 

382 Home 

383 David Garrick 

384 Ours 

VOL. XLIX. 

385 Social Glass 

386 Daniel Druce 

387 Two Roses 

388 Adrienne 

389 The Bells 

390 Uncle 

391 Courtship 

392 Not Such a Fool 


VOL. L. 

393 Fine Feathers 

394 Prompter’s Box 

395 Iron Master 

396 Engaged 

'•>97 Pygmalion k Galatea 

398 l.eah 

399 Scrap of Paper 

400 Lost in London 

VOL. LI. 

401 Octoroon 

402 Confederate Spy 

403 Mariner’s Return 

404 Ruined by Drink 

405 Dreams 

406 M. P. 

407 War 

408 Birth 

VOL. LIL 

409 Nightingale 

410 Progress 

411 Play 

412 Midnight Charge 

413 Confidential Clerk 

414 Snowball 

415 Our Regiment 

416 Married for Money 
Hamlet in Three Acts 
Guttle & Gulpit 


FRENCH’S INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHTED EDITION 
OF THE WORKS OF THE BEST AUTHORS. 

The following very successful plays have just been issued at 25 cents per copy. 


A PAIR OF SPECTACLES. Comedy in 3 Acts 
by Sydn*y Grundy, author of “Sowing the Wind,” 
Ac. 8 male, 3 female characters. 

A FOOL’S PARADISE. An originnl play In 3 
Aits by Sydney Grundy, author of “Sowing the 
Wind,” Ac. 5 male, 4 female characters. 

THE SILVER SHIELD. An original comedy in 
3 Acts by Sydnky Grundy, author of “Sowing the 
Wind,” Ac. 5 male, 3 female characters. 

THE GLASS OF FASHION. An original com¬ 
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the Wind,” Ac. 5 male. 6 female characters. 


THE BALLOON. Farcical comedy in 8 Ants by J. 
H. D.rm.by and Manvili.e Fenn. 6 male, 4 female 
characters. 

MISS CLEOPATRA. Farce In 3 Acts by Arthur 
Shirley. 7 male, 3 female characters. 

SIX PERSONS. Comedy Act by I. Zangwill, 
1 male, 1 female character. 

FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE. Comedi¬ 
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Brandon Thomas, author of “Charley’s Aunt.” 
5 male, 2 female characters. 


Contents of Catalogue which is sent Free. 


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Articles Needed by Amateurs 

Art of Scene Painting 

Baker’s Reading Club 

Beards, Whiskers, Mustaches, etc. 

Bound Sets of Plays 

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Burnt Cork 

Cabman’s Story 

Carnival of Authors 

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Children’s Plays 

Comic Dramas for Male Characters 
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Costume Books 
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Darkey Dramas 
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Elocution, Reciters and Speakers 
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French’s Standard and Minor Drama 
French’s Standard and Minor Drama, 
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French’s Scenes for Amateurs 
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Guide Books for Amateurs 
Guide to Selecting Plays 
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Irish PI a vs 
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Make-Up Book 
Make-Up Box 
Mock Trial 

Mrs. Jarley’s Wax Work. 

New Plays 


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Nigger Jokes and Stump Speeches 

Parlor Magic 

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Talrna Actor’s Art 

Temperance Plays 

Vocal Mnsic of Shakespeare’s Plays 

Webster’s Acting Editioa 

Wigs, etc. 


VOL. XLT. 

321 Adventures of a Love 

322 I ost Child [Letter 

823 Court Cards 

324 Cox and Box 

325 Fortv Winks 

326 Wonderful Woman 
827 Curious Case 

328 Tweedleton’s Tail Coat 


« 

(French's Minor Drama Continued from 4 th page of Cover.) 

VOL. XLIV. 

345 Who’s To Win Him 

346 Which i* Which 

347 Cup of Tea 
349 Sarah’s Young Man 

349 Hearts 

350 In Honor Bound [Law 

351 Freeslng a Mother-in- 

352 My Lord In Livery 


VOL. XLII. 

VOL. XLIII. 

329 As Like as Two Peas 

337 Sunset 

330 Presumptive Evidence 

338 For Half a Million 

331 Happy Band 

339 Cable Car 

332 Pinafore 

340 Early Bird 

333 Mock Trial 

341 Alumni Play 

334 My Uncle’s Will 

342 Show of Hands 

335 Happy Pair 

343 Barbara 

336 My Turn Next 

344 Who’s Who 


SAMUEL FRENCH, 26 West 22d St., New York City. 


New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request. 































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Price 15 Cents each.—Bound Volumes 51 . 25 . 


VOL. I. 

1 The I*:sk Attorury 
S Beoto .t t'.e >war 

3 Ho» to Pay sie Rest 

4 The Loan of a Lover 

5 The Deac 6nt: 
t HU Last Legs 

7 Tl* Itsvuibie Prince 
3 The Golden Farmer 
VOL. U. 

? Prid* of the Market 

10 Uee>n Ud 

11 Tie Irtss Tutor 

15 Tie Barrack Roots 

13 Lake ike La orer 

14 Beaaty and tie Beast 

15 Sr Pntoi.-k’* Eve 

15 Can tain of the Watch. 

‘ VOX ilL 

17 Tie Be met [Vers 

Is WF.se Hone c! tie rep- 
19 Tie Jacobite 
S$ Tre Rattle 
21 Box aai Cox 
25 Bari' • g 

23 Widow’s Vtcsitn 
S* Rebert Mtcare 

VOL. IV. 

24 Secret Service 
54 OxaiHs 
27 Irsh Lira 

25 Mad if CrotesT 
25 Tie Old Girard 
3D Ra siue tie VVjc.4 

31 Slasher and Crasher 

32 NjU E g igs mm ts 

VOL.' V. 

S3 Ceckrmes ia CaliuraU 

34 Wao Speaks First 

35 Bombastos Fsrioso 
35 Macbeth Travestie 
37 Iris* Amnassvior 


VOL. XL 

51 O'r lanugut ani the Fai >1 Pt 
6i ir.ah Pfcwt [Fee lit A 

6- ; My Ne r bor'i Wire 163 M 
o4 Irii Tiger f 164 Si 

*5 P. P-. - Mar aai Tire- .55 X 
rb To Orlge Benjaa 
v State Secret* 

55 Irish Yankee 

VOL. XIL 
•66 A Good Fellow 

90 Cherry and Fair Star 

91 Gale 3reexelr 

92 Osr Jerclsiy 
S? Miller’s Ma i 

94 Awkward Arrival 

95 Crosajr.x the Line 
Si Cjihik Least i 

VOL. SUL 

S* My Wire's Mirror 

56 L:ie ia New York 
55 Mid iy Asian 

tlW Oow'a Prise* 

. 101 Two V}ce-o* 

i Tuumpvug Legacy 
[103 l“aSn ; ited D*;Kr an 
.4 House Dog 

vol. xrv. 

: 05 The Demon Lover 
(104 Matr. u-. 'uy 
|l‘J7 la ani Oat of Place 
I S 1 Dine with My Mather 
i .9 H:-a-wa-tha 
.HO Andy Blake 
III! Love ia "7* r s*e 


vm 


xxl 1 vol. xxsi. 
“****> - r CONGRESS 



015 973 539 


1164 X 

! 127 Taae a. 

’.if Irts' Wire ilttriej t4o :«tii 



VOL. XX1L 
fib? Y'ar.kee Peddler 
11Tv Hiram Hireeu; 

(i?l Poable-Bedded R.»m. 
hr? The Drama Oelenied 
*173 Verm oat Weed Deader 
.'4 E:- etc- Venture [ter .54 Dream* f rvission 
175 IVincipIe* from Ck*nc4i55 T: - - : t era 

.:» Lars : the Laae <Trav> -U Ticklish kmes 

Yol. XXIH. VOL. XAXIIL 

•77 Mad Dues j -57 

ITS B>rkt we Baron !?>S 


xxxu. 

.4? Pr. PL» .cm 
Out to .Nurse 
i5! A Lucky Hit 
-id Tit D< wager 
25-5 Metar sera iburle-sune) 


■ r* ss sws::i 


‘ S 


Bnhi'cc’s Becr>r~ 

.». Roian-d for an Oliver 


,163 Dumb Belie 
1^4 Lim-eick boc 


vol. xx rv. 

flS5 Nature aai PkilowfAy 
>6 le-ddy she Tiler 
. Sne. .-v Sr irs-vs 
■' lime; Falcons 
!S9 Jenny Lund 
.ST*.' Buaa-h 
SI Happy Mas 


■ 112 Romance uaier P:2jcai- \ fi Brisk Baker 

VOL. XV. , VOL. XXV. 

JUS One Coat for 2 Saits Ft* v ~ 1 “ - J ~ln 

il’4 A Dec ied Case -M ieiiy R.e 

ill Daughter [re rit■>: O'r.t f t-resk 

(112 No; or. the G! rr: us Mi- " Fr ic« Clerk 


Coroner's Iifststtlsi 
L ve is Ha3tole Lire 


3$ Delicate Ground .. 

.•J The Vt rath ere sek [• d uj Familv Jars 
40 All that G. tiers is Net . y Fersonah-ri 

VOL. A i. \”O r XVT 

«1 C Uashaw . Ba-shaw acd 1?I ChiMrea ha th. \T.ed 


ted 


Oav Arte- the Fair 


'..4 Mate Y 


WHls 


43 BUhwt Costume 
** l w<> Bo^vv^ties i*5 Rea 

4? B -b to J ’tj Lrt li« Mr Wifr *5 Hnshaai 

Ir Ktss w the Dark Rarer , u. M Vasfomr Toaa>a 

V 13inhasnfo.Suaa.er 

foK.UerCare VOU XVTL 

Mitres 

111 t *' : ii! Dra't F 
21 


4S Be 


'°F . ,' ; 29 M schief Mai n. 

t . . Wt’A Liv* Wr-uta: 

5d s. Cnp:d _ £a*»?sa«.i ; x .. c . 

13? Shviock 


51 G.v-to-hed Tent 
55 The Lawyers 
*5 Jack Sseppard 

54 Tne Toiles 

55 The M -heap 
»4 Ladies Beware 

VOL. VIII. 

= * M Tirinj Ca 
A? Prf-r-.ie t'r Q:«;)t 
5? Oeaf as a P «s 
i-i New Fctciin 
• 1' r .re- V - - 

62 Piidy the Piper 
43 Brian O'Liaa 

64 Irisn Assaraace 

VOL. IX 
»' Te-rtpia! -a 

65 Paidc Carey 
67 Two Gnefrries 
6- KinpCbt— ng 

69 Po-ea-hcu-tas 

70 Clocktrtaker’s Hat 
7! M arr.ed Rase 

7 5 Lare and Mudev 
VOL. X 

73 Irelan t an i A -.*- ra 

74 Pretty Piece of Business 

75 Ir.su i-troout-rr.aker 
7S To Parts and 

Five Pour is 
77 That Blessed Baby 
7? Car Gal 
79 B«r=is C-tvaje 
jP Ycucj Widow 


•’ $£•-■>: ei C-.H 
134 EvTi Eye 
j 15 V'.scn -c to Nurse 
1 136 Wanted a Widow 

vox xvrii. 

.1 : 7 Lotterv Ticket 
' 3J Fortune’s Frolic 
I S Is he JrL -ns* 

.4-. Marred Ba,r-'I r 
1141 Husband at Sight 

14s Ir s’mac in Les-isa 
41 A - ia. M vc~ etlsta 


i -i? Aivi-e to HusS 
144 Highways ami By-W ^ 

V.AX XIX. VO’l xkiT 

;.4H»mkK 
i 46 Haritnjulc Bl rereard 

47 Ladies'at Hnw i—- ** Actrre 

4- Ffceaoaxae* in a Smock r : e ladv cf'-e Lfces 


Frock 

4r Cooeedy an d T-ane-iy 

15 Oncers: to v enrhlcr» 


-I M cates wiw a Tt|ree 
M ralda; <r, tar Jusnue 

of Tacaa 

:i? A S-tl u si's Coa-tship 

re-.au.j :y Legacy 

rr M -e P.un tert than One .61 IVrj fox Love 

r-: A.am 6a r lore 

' s.et de Sham 
2*4 N a» Nscklehr 
VOL XXXIV, 

. 55 T nr Lass •; i the Pigtails 
-6 5 K-eg Rene's Daazhtar 
.6* Thr Grotto Nymph 
A' Lv-. lsn Go- d J ok« 

-69 A Twice Ted Tale 
Pas de Fasviaatfoa 
Rev .Tut: *arv NSder 
A Man Witncut a Head 
VOX XXXV. 

273 T e OUau Part 1 
2*4 Tue < Fart 2 
i'i Tie Olio. Pars S [ter 

2~- T e Trua netc-r's Pacgs- 

Screen Mocntam B.y 

f*5 That Nose 
h T :r N .bay's kemet 
VOX XXXVL 
t>' 5: ■-k ng Ecents * 

2S2 3 Regular Fix 

-6 1 i Fnrpi* 

264 Y nr c Scurap 
h 'g Actress 
rr ; Cal a: X >. 1—7 

r Tone- cf Nature 
l^r Tw> B'hcvs 

vox xxmi. 

.- '■ 4 W-ru'. s tart 

: i.eve in Liverv ' -f; ^ sger Irat- 

Anih c v ac. i C e;p atra t2». T nr.. H ra * m: (tic* 

214 Tn-iag I; Oe 

Or •'nice Ft- i Yank- ' *- nr a« Ahc 

:16 Y u- c Wile A OM l'»- |T'^--wsftr resa.-.erC’ases 

bee a -9' kauty O’rhea. 

- -- A r -rent ? i * 

VOL. xxxvm. 

' Parle Fran rai* 

TO Wh K Led C.-cl Rohia 

- '6 IVcIarat? - fIxder>*- J- 
n.itis cr Tails ' rnc* 
Ohsunaie Famlly 

? Vr A ent | 

That Rt*.a' Pat 
4 D _ r ad i v dr Raman 

V«0L XXXTX. [sure 
: T - >( h for Good Na- 
• ' u-e r - the F.-icets 
. ac s s tn e Xad 

- Much A so A toMsXechisg 


197 Bengal Tiger 
I -6 l a gning Haena 
.66 Tue Victor A ans u 
r h-Onr Wte 

vox xxn. 

r>i My Husband s Mi 
2*hi Yankee I-an 1 
.‘2-i N rah >Vm 
? 4 (kad for N: thing 
-. 5 Tine F.rst N gks 
06 The Eton R.-y 

Wandering Minstrel 
[M Wacted, lens MUJb 
VOX XXVIL 

. 6 ? p 7 r 

The Mum-v.v ^Glasses 


st- , 


vox xxvnL 

CVOolir - 

215 A Fa - v F •• ng 
ml* Aimted'O-.d 
»> Tercel Heads 


r?l A Matck in 


Dirt 

ris 


:*f5 >" r .- NMy F.t*e 
i - Lad es‘ Ba:; e 


:5v Tue Right* of Mac 
-' Vy HtsH- t’s Gh -s 
it*' Can Plan a; 0 
Game 

t ’2 F g- i -g h-. TYtxv 
' VOL. X\X 
.iaS Trp-'tecned 1-vs 
554 Pet or' the Fetthn ats 


* • 6 Artful LVvlg-c 
1 At --eng Hstnani 
: ’-l F-av's Fsk ; ng ’A;. 

- .2 Did vre ever send vr-ur, 

VOX XX 

13 An Tr shm an'* Maneuver 
"4 0 ;-m F-rn e 


’ 51 Dates.— an ’» G h - s t 

152 Persecuted Ontohman 
VOX XX. 

153 Mnsari Ball 
04 Great Tragi-- Revival 

Back fer 155 High Lew Jack A Game : A? F'-ty ani Frkv "N 'k JT5 Tsthe DimIll t TI. _ W 
■ ‘ " 5 - ■ • • - iw 

I1ST Too* ud Jerry [taarfHST Mr Su Dim 

'56 Vlllvge Lawyer 2 : S Uiwv-a-a: - 1- t en- TS Gui X*ti< Rrsu 

,15 5 Carta - J ret A-miss 2 S5 Mr an d Mr*. W; ;j j Ma- w :h -g. 'a-ne: Bag 

tie* Atsatefua and Actors iw A ^c « Fan "v 5 ? Terrisic Tinker ‘ 1 

(Fm. c s Mim?r Druru C.'si:Ku'.i os th of Cyccr.) 


SAML EL FRENCH 20 West 22 d Street. New > ork Citv. 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request. 



















